Guilty Pleasures

           Say someone asks you, “What are your ten guilty pleasures”? How much thinking would you have to do to come up with ten, or is ten just the tip of the ice berg? Personally, I have quite a few and enjoy EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!  

My Tea This Morning

      The first one that comes to my mind is tea. I love hot black tea. I start and end my day, every day, with a cup of tea. I’m fussy about my tea too. For starters, I drink mine in a clear, glass, BIG mug! I use only distilled water so it’s nice and clear. No cloudy tea for me.  Here’s the really sinful, guilty part… I really love real, white, not so good for you, sugar in it …and like 2 tbsp! Celestial Seasonings English breakfast tea is my favorite, followed by Lipton’s Orange Spice black tea.

The Drip Pot Like Mom Used To Make Tea

             My love of tea started when Mom used to make tea for supper once in a while, when we were kids in her old aluminum drip coffee pot. She would add loose tea to the basket of the pot and pour boiling water from the bottom of the pot through the basket. Then she would pour the perfectly steeped tea into glass cups with saucers. That was fine dining at our house!  Kathy and I only got a half of a cup as it would “stunt our growth”! The white sugar bowl with the silver trim that was a staple in the center of the table, was readily available to sugar my tea up to my liking.  By the way it did not stunt my growth, but rather, widened my girth if anything!

        My second guilty pleasure is my heated throw. I think I have had about six already, cuz i must have a new one if they stop working! When my legs hurt or back aches or I just want to be cozy…I love my heated throw. I love that throw summer or winter, but obviously more in the winter. When my bones ache I love to turn it on and recline my chair and cook until I’m medium rare…then I kick it all off and complain about how hot I am…till I’m cold again in fifteen minutes and then start the cooking process all over !

         Third, I love my DS scrabble game, I play it almost every night before I fall asleep. The secret is I play the computer, but only on level five because if I play on level six it beats me every time!  I like a close game but getting my pants beat off before I go to bed isn’t relaxing or sleep inducing ha…ticks me off when he uses all his letters and scores an extra fifty points, on a word I’m not even sure is a word!

          Fourth, I love old jewelry, especially old pins. I have collected them for years, before it became fashionable and before they were “vintage”. I love putting on an old pin, and wondering who the little lady was, who wore this to church one Sunday and sang off tune to every hymn,  or maybe she received it for a gift from her children or husband. I imagine her to be happy with how much I love and care for her beautiful baubles, each in their own little plastic compartment. I love all jewelry, but the older the better…well,... other than Brighton’s - that’s my favorite store, and I take all the new stuff from there I can get ha!

        

Weezy...Lil Wayne

   Fifth is my love of Lil Wayne’s music…its creative, its raw, its filthy some of it, but I just love his voice, his creativity and his life story! He’s a pot smoker, drinks purple codine cough syrup from a styrofoam cup,  talks about women in a trashy way... but  I think the guy is a genius, for real. When he was in prison for gun charges, or maybe it was drug charges, Sydney and I were walking by Hot Topic and they had Free Weezy mug shot shirts, two for the price of one. We both got one but, Syd encouraged me to, "just wear mine around the house"! I was like, "yes I know,  do you think I’ve totally lost my mind"?…but I do wear my free Weezy shirt around the house with my flannel pants. Like Larry the Cable guy says, "Lord I Apologize”!

This one is my Grandma Bruhn ha.

         Sixth, is my collection of Nana’s Family Dolls. They are resin dolls made by Annie Wahl. They were commissioned by Richard Simmons ( not a fan of him but liked the dolls), and are all retired now.  I have given them names after people  I have known in my life. I take great joy in my dolls. I find as I get older the more I love my things!



Sisters





          Seventh is taking pictures. I love to take pictures, especially if I can get a cooperative subject that isn’t acting spunky and hissing like my lil roommate Sydney Nicole does. If I want to take her picture it has to be short and sweet and she has final say about the delete button on the camera! Oh and I can’t post them either!

          Eighth is a relaxing bath, I long for a nice big tub one day. Where we live now has a nice walk in shower in the master bedroom and a little dinky bathtub in the main bathroom lined with Sydney’s shampoos, conditioners and razors etc. It’s a hazard to try and take a bath in there, between slipping around on the spilled conditioner and all the razors I just shower but I miss my baths. 

            Reality TV is number nine on the guilty pleasure list. I love them all! American Idol, DWTS, Teen Mom, The Real World, the Housewives of whatever city, The Jersey Shore, …you name it I tape it, and fast forward thru parts I don’t like or am not interested in which is pretty much just the commercials!



A great view...and a better feeling

           Number ten is my horse. I love spending time with him. He really is a guilty pleasure because he’s not a Chihuahua to keep and feed ha…I also have a human cat named Bentley, and a Chihuahua named Papi…they all add pleasure and friendship  and love to my life.  My horse has been a real gift to me from me and I wake up in the morning wanting to go hang out with him…and wait to see him every day.

     

     Crocs, are pushing me over ten! I love Crocs..I don't care who says what about them..I love them! Never again am I putting my feet in anything uncomfortable. I especially love the flats...they are cute (in my opinion) with anything! The bright colors are a huge turn off, but you don't have to go with those. I'll share my favorites!



          My last guilty pleasure is being in Phoenix. I am a gypsy with two homes…I love North Dakota , but I want to live here…here where the weather is warm and sunny, where my kids are, where Marcy and her family are, here where there are endless things to do. I enjoy going to Minot when I do, and that will always be my true hometown, but this is the home I got to choose and I love it here. The guilty part is that Kerry is still in ND and would rather have me there, for the first day or so anyway and then we start locking horns about the simplest things. By the time he joins us here I hope we have lost any animosity and just become one. One can dream, ha!

           That's twelve already, I told you I could think of a bunch! The important thing is, since I’ve turned fifty five, I gave up guilt, and I think you should too. Name your pleasure, name your poison, live your life and love everything in it. It can only add sparkle and happiness!

Rest In Everlasting Peace Uncle Gilbert

Gilbert Bruhn Family

       I have lost important people in my life along the way, and today was one of those days that you wake up to a phone call that tells you another of those treasured people has passed away.  He was 83 I think.  He lived a long and healthy life.  But it’s never long enough when its someone you can't imagine your life without, we always want one more day, and we are never ready to lose loved ones.

        My Uncle Gilbert, passed away today in Wolf Point Montana. He  lived there as far back as I can remember. He was an auto machanic by profession, but there wasn’t one thing he couldn’t do. He could fix anything; he inherited that trait either by nature or nurture from his father. Besides fixing anything on a car, he might be remodeling a cabin, a kitchen, fixing faulty electricity, or laying under the sink fixing leaky plumbing, I always saw him as one of the smartest men I knew and one of the hardest working as well. He was an avid fisherman and enjoyed his cabin and boat at Fort Peck for many years. It was his home away from home, especially when his wife Mary was playing cards in town with her girl friends. He loved that cabin and Fort Peck.

        When I was twelve and my father died from an accident,  Gilbert came from Montana, walked Mom (his sister) up the isle at the funeral  and sat with his arm around her offering a shoulder to cry on and giving her the familar comfort only a brother could. His wife Mary, sat a few rows back with other family members , and sweetly let Gilbert be the caretaker of his sister.

      A few years later my brother passed away. Again, there was Gilbert, arm around Mom, helping her put one foot in front of the other; this time to make that trek past the front pew to gaze at her son one last time, before the casket lid was closed for eternity. Mary again sat with other relatives further back, happy to share Gilbert.  I always have told people that Mary is my definition of class - not just because of those times, but those times said so much about who she is. I feel so sad for her today, and wish I could give her a hug.

       Mary and Gilbert have been married sixty something years. At their 50th anniversary several years back, they danced the polka, waltz, and two step tirelessly ALL NIGHT LONG!  Most of us younger people slumped over in our chairs - wondered where do they get such stamina? That was a fun night.

        My grandparents lived in Blaisdell, North Dakota, a tiny town…so tiny no one knew where it was most of the time! When Gilbert and Mary were coming from Wolf Point, MT to Blaisdell for a visit it was a big deal for everyone!  Grandma thawed out some butter ( they ate oleo but Mary only liked butter, so Grandma made sure she was ready with the butter). When they came home all the seven families congregated and stuffed ourselves into Grandmas tiny house, until it resembled the little ballooning  houses of an old Terrytoon cartoon.  The adults played cards and visited and we grandkids split up and sat in our parents cars in little cousin clicks, or walked to the school playground.  Gilbert was always laughing and telling stories.  The adults bragged about us kids, with a little "oneupmanship" going on, showing latest pictures and painting us in our best light.  Personally, I liked that part haha….

       When my kids were born they remember Gilbert the same way I do, always fixing what needed to be fixed. Sitting around drove Gilbert crazy,  he was a thinker, a lot of us in the Bruhn family are thinkers… almost to a negative, because its hard on your health to think non stop and not be able to shut your mind off and relax.  Shelbey remembers when he was visiting our house once her little wooden rocking chair was broke, and he had me find him some wood clue and pegs and he fixed it for her. No one likes to rock more than Shelbey so she was thrilled to have that fixed and never forgot it! All of my kids love Gilbert and Mary.  Shelbey just said a few days ago, one thing she loved is that Gilbert always wrote and responded to the Christmas cards he received, with a hand written card back, talking about the weather and what he and Mary had been doing.

    Today I’m sad I can’t swing going to Wolf Point for the funeral, I would like to sit in the pew like he did for us so many times, but financially it isn’t feasible from so far away.  I’m sad for Mary, Mary Ann, Gilbert Jr, Debbie, Patty and all the grandkids, that love him so very much, and for who his passing will leave a huge hole. I’m sad for the community of Wolf Point, because he was loved by many.  I’m sad for the rest of us who, with the death of each of these old timers that mean the world to us, we lose one more of a dying breed of that generation. They were honorable, they kept their word to people,  could be trusted to take care of their family for life, and try to do the right thing to the end.

         I’m not saying they were perfect, there are no perfect people, and if ever there were hurts or altercations with family,  I hope none of us let that define the whole relationship, because the good times always outweigh the bad. We are a family, we all share a bond and it has been a blessing, a huge blessing, to grow up knowing you were part of a big family that loves you and you were part of. Think of how many people today don’t have that?  That circle of love of aunts and uncles outside your own nuclear family is so grounding and important.

      There was a framed family tree with gold leaves, and little black and white pictures of all the families,that hung above Grandmas couch there in Blaisdell. It had been presented to Grandpa and Grandma Bruhn on their 50th anniversary. That tree reminds me of a saying that goes… “Like branches on a tree we all grow and go in different directions but our roots remain one”. 

       One of the brightest leaves on that picture has sifted to the ground now,  having fulfilled the job he came to earth to do.  I wish I could be there at his funeral, to look around and appreciate his legacy left behind in the family and friends on his funeral day, but let this be my tribute to someone I have always been proud to call my uncle.
                                                          Much Love,
                                                          Pam

To Make Children in the Crockpot

       As much as I need to get going on that paint job in my bathroom,   one must have their morning tea, right?  I have already made my bed, skimmed and back flushed the pool, taken out the garbage and started the dishwasher I left holding all the days dirty dishes last night - without even so much as a rinse!

         I started a blog about something (can’t remember what), before going to North Dakota.  Skimming through my documents I ran across “To Make Children in the Crockpot”.  Well, that’s what I read…what it really was, is just something I jotted down for Sydney, which said To Make Chicken in the Crockpot.  She wanted to make chicken in the crockpot while I was gone and she hadn’t used a crockpot much. The perceived title did make me think about raising children in a crockpot however….stay with me on this now, ha.

         
        Far be it from me to tell anyone how to raise their kids, I’m far from perfect myself.  I, like most Moms, have my moments of excellence- true genius even…and then I have my moments of insecurity and the need to be in control, which leads to rage. Only Kerry and the kids know I am a rager…even my sisters say, “I have never really seen you mad like you describe”. All I can say is, "it’s there"! Probably has happened ten or twenty times in my life but it happens.

Who could get mad at that lil face?

                                                         

          It takes a lot to push me to the brink of insanity, well in a raging kind of way anyway, but when I pass go there is no return! One of the first times, I can think of is when Brendon had a big wheel or a hot wheel as some call it.  We lived in Berthold, ND. and on the only paved road leading into town from the east. Brendon was five years old and I told him he could only ride that big wheel in the drive way, ABSOLUTELY COULD NOT RIDE IT ON THAT PAVED ROAD!  I didn’t really clarify why as I had harped about that road since he was born with healthy ears!

          About ten minutes later and the first time I saw him peddling his little legs off on the highway out front I thought I was seeing things, so I went out there, stayed calm and explained that even if you don’t see any cars at the time of pulling on the road, the clacking that was part of the big wheel experience, would not allow you to hear any cars that would come up behind you, and you’d could be killed! Cars are not expecting big wheels on the highway!  I love you too much to allow you to be on that road- so you must stay in the driveway. Sitting there, hands up high on the handlebars, wheel turned a little to the side ready to go,  with just his pajama top with shorts on; he looked at me, big brown eyes peeking through his needing a trim, seventies “cuff cut” and said, “OOOKKK, Mom, I WON'T”! 

          Guess I thought that was, ok Mom I won’t go on the highway, but I was wrong, because there he went again out on the highway!   I opened the front door and reminded him to get back in the driveway and he sheepishly clacked it on in. 

          Couple minutes later, I thought I saw my first apparition, cuz I swore that was Brendon, flying past, peddling his little legs off out on the highway again!  Now I was mad, not raging yet, but mad.  I opened the door and bellered, “get that thing in the driveway or you will park it”! He yelled back, “Sorry Mom, I forgot”!  I thought, sure you did and shut the door, after all I’m not cooling off the outside (Ethel resides in my head).

           This time I watched him from the bedroom window.  He drove to the edge of the driveway, looked both ways for traffic,  looked back at the door where I had been keeping check from. Not seeing me there, front wheel grabbing for traction, he roared out into the street clacking all the way.  Oooohh…NOW THE RAGE KICKED IN! I grabbed a wooden spoon; you know the three for 99 cent kind, that scared the crap out of kids in the seventies… just by rattling the drawer! You only had to use it once or twice, and after that shaking the drawer was enough to do what the spanking would have.

          I stormed out to that highway like a wild charging boar, screaming the whole way! I was screeching something like "you forgot alright", grounded him for probably three months or something crazy, said I was taking away everything I could think of that meant anything too him, jerked him off of that hot cycle by one arm, cracked him on the behind with that wooden spoon screaming, "forget that will you! He took off running toward the house. I’m sure I was putting on an entertaining act for the neighborhood, but I’d past go with no return when it came to sanity.  I screamed and hollered the whole way to the house and he was crying, sobbing and tripping. As he scampered through the walk in garage door, in my rage I decided to give him one more crack for good measure.  Thank you God, because I missed his butt and hit the side of the door, breaking the spoon! I looked at the stick in my hand with the sharp jagged edges, picked up the head of the spoon, and muttered something about a cheap _ _ _  spoon!

           Heartbroken and angry, he went inside and flopped himself on his bugs bunny bed with all the Looney tunes characters I’d lovingly painted on his wall in his room around him.  I sat down in the living room and cried, letting what just happened soak in.  That pretty much ended the wooden spoon thing for me. Oh I still rattled the drawer on occasion, but the moment that stick broke I knew I was spanking for me,  it was out of control and did I really want to be a big looming threat in their lives and someone you had to be scared of to listen?  I never got spanked by my mother and I turned out ok I reasoned…

           I went in his room and apologized for getting THAT mad, gave him back the stuff I took away in my rage ( ya bad idea too, but where was Dr. Phil when I needed him). I told him I loved him more than anything, and I wanted to be able to trust him to ride that darn thing safely. The cycle stayed parked as the only punishment until the next time we went to Grandmas.  The big wheel went with and stayed there at the farm…he could clack till he was blue in the face, she had a hill he could ride down and we were both happier. All that is except Grandma, who worried he'd loose control and crash into the propane pig in her yard!  

           I'm still a rager on occassion, but it takes more energy than I care to expend these days ha...  Brendon teases me still about when he was in high school, and he pushed my buttons until I backed him in the corner with a broom to hold him in place till I got done chewing him out for something. Didn’t hit him - just threatened to stick the bristles in his face!

           So the idea of raising children in a crockpot could be a gentler, slower simmering pace. I think if I had to do it over again I would work harder at that approach.  I could still turn up the heat to near boiling if I had too, but not to where it’s overflowing and running over and making a mess of things. I have hurt my kids emotionally when I raged around and we laugh about it now yes, but it’s really not so funny.  Some people today hurt their kids by never taking a stand either and just letting them be the rulers in the family. That’s just as bad.

         So I say, put in your crockpot enough children to make your family complete. Pour emotional love, friendship, acceptance, understanding for what their world is like, fair discipline, physical needs and a handful of wants as well, over the top of them. Add to that a lot of fun and experiences, forming a colorful family stew of sorts, made up of all the different personalities and accepting them all. Simmer that all together. If you hit rough spots, you may need to turn up the heat until the mixture stabilizes.  Cook for a lifetime, never give up on each other, parents or children, and be sure to enjoy and appreciate each other along the way.

Brendon sleeping on his Looney Tune bedspread and favorite white blanket!

          

The Soundtrack of My Life

               Music.  I’ve heard it said music is the soundtrack to your life. What music would you choose to make the soundtrack of your life?  My first memories of music were of Mom playing the guitar. She got her guitar from her brother Julius for her 17^th birthday, and like so many others in her family, playing an instrument and singing seemed effortless.  Mom had probably six to ten, brown note books full of song lyrics, neatly written by her hand. When she was sure Dad was not coming in the house for a while,  Mom would take out her guitar and we’d page through the songs and eagerly find our requests.  I remember singing  the Old Rugged Cross, You are My Sunshine, Have I Told You Lately that I Love You, Don’t Pop and I’ll Be Good, At Mail Call Today, and I Just Don’t Give a Hoot!

Kathy and Me Cutting the Rug ha..

             When Marcy and Sonny were in high school, Kathy and I were preschoolers. Marcy taught us all the latest fifties dances, like the stroll (love that one), the hully gully, the hand jive, and our very favorite, the bop. During that time, I won a little record player at a Rexall drug store contest.  Marcy and Sonny picked out the music for me. I loved that little gold and white record player with the furry grey turn table.  I still have the 45 records of Elvis,  Buddy Holly and the Drifters. Those old 45's have two songs on each side.

               During  grade school, my Dad liked Buck Owens. I idolized my Dad, so I too loved Buck Owens - in spite of the filthy talking boy in school that I wrote about last time, taking the B out of Buck and changing it to an F.  It never stopped me from  focusing  on the wonderful memories that were made, two stepping around the living room with my Dad,  trying to dodge, but still bumping into Mom and Kathy two stepping beside us.  Lots of two steps to Open up Your Heart, Under  Your Spell and Sam’s Place. After three or four dances we’d take a rest.

                                                 

          Then Kathy and I fell in love with THE MONKEES!  I loved Davey Jones and Kathy loved Mickey Dolenze. We skipped the Beatles, and went for the Monkees and Herman’s Hermits (Brendon got Kerry and I tickets to Herman’s Hermits a couple years ago and they were awesome btw!)

               In high school I loved Lobo, the Bee Gees, Bj Thomas, Johnny Rivers, Creedence Clearwater Revival, John Denver, and Top 40 radio.  A whole string of one hit wonder songs like Precious and Few fit on that list somewhere too!

                                                          

               In my twenties, disco came in and I checked out …I still hate disco! I switched to country music or I loved The Gullings Sisters, who had a ministry based out of Minnesota, and sang at our church when they were in the area. I had all their albums and loved their music!  Shelbey’s gospel CD has a lot of Gullings music on it, which she redid with Dave Roise in Minot ND. 

         We did and do clean house with the radio blasting and take frequent dance breaks!  Back then we listened to The Judds, John Anderson, Joe Diffie , Alan Jackson, Toby Keith and Martina McBride, Lori Morgan, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Diamond Rio to name a few. 

                                                      

              After Sydney was born we girls started making long trips to and from Branson, Mo when Shelbey worked and lived there. I was still into country music and Sydney was now into Simple Plan and Good Charlotte type stuff. To be fair we played one of her CD’s and then one of mine. So it would go something like Dwight Yoakum, Simple Plan, Doug Stone, Good Charlotte, Garth brooks, Savage Garden, Tim McGraw, Britney Spears, The Mavericks, and Backstreet Boys etc.

                Then came the long drives from Minot to Phoenix and back. Country music had become all about Brooks and Dunn(yuk), Gretchen Wilson (yuk), Josh Turner(yuk)….so I switched to Sydney’s music for good.  Today I listen to mostly top forty pop radio stuff and old country.  I really like Garth Brooks, Jason Derulo, Carrie Underwood, The Black Eyed Peas, Kelly Clarkson, Enrique Iglesis, Rhianna, Rob Thomas,…I dunno… whatever I think sounds good!  I like some country now again too. Taylor Swift’s last album sounded good to me, although I think her real talent is songwriting… they can produce her so she sounds good.

           My Soundtrack goes like this (I’m sure I’ve forgotten a few, I should have included, so i may be adding to this yet ha).  

                Every day by Buddy Holly……five or six years old and my new record player.
              
                What a Friend We Have In Jesus...my Dad's funeral

                This Magic Moment by Jay and The Americans ….8^th grade.

                Children of the Heavenly Father…a choir song I sang alto to and Kathy melody

                Do Lord Oh Do Lord…driving Marcy and Jerry nuts with it in the back seat on a Canadian road trip.  

              The Crystal Chandalier  …Kelly Moore used to bring his Charlie Pride albums out to the  farm.

               Look Out Here Comes Tomorrow…my favorite Monkees song

               Billy and Sue by  Bj Thomas……. high school dances in the gym my freshman year

                Baby I’m-a Want You by Bread….my first boyfriend

                Wild Thing by The Troggs……..wishing I was something I wasn’t.

                Runaround Sue by Dion….the song they gave me in the high school yearbook.

                 Precious and Few by Climax….a prom in Plaza I was invited to.

                 Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow by the Chiffons…I played this on my guitar endlessly. 

                 Maggie May by Rod Stewart…seeing Kerry driving down main street in Stanley with that song blasting, with his shoulder length hair

                Behind Closed Doors by Charlie Rich….Kerry and My song…1973

  Delta Dawn by Tanya Tucker….the only time I ever saw Lori (Kerry’s sister drunk, she sang that all the way home    from the state line club.

  Take Me Home Country Roads... my brothers funeral

 Baby’s Got Back by Sir Mix A Lot…I confiscated Brendon’s tapes of that “immoral music” !

Wild Angels by Martina McBride…Shelbey and I singing on a trip home from Bismarck!

Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen…Dirty Dancing my all-time favorite movie

That’s What I like Dance Mix ….Sydney danced her way all over ND one summer, when she was only ten. She earned $600. in Jr. Division amateur contests at state and county fairs.

Now and Forever by Richard Marx …Brendon and his very first girlfriend

Holiday Road by Lindsey Buckingham…our vacation song we always sang in the car

Unchained Melody by Shelbey Picek…her first CD, so proud of her

            Mambo Italiano – Sydneys'  high school dance they performed for State, loved watching it

              One Friend by Dan Seals…Our 25^th Anniversary

              If I Never Stop Loving You by David Kersh…Our 25^thAnniversary first dance choice Kerry picked it

              In the Garden…Mom’s funeral

              I Will Be There by Shelbey Picek.. sang at her wedding

              Writing It Down by Uncle Kracker…worrying about Brendon

              Transform Ya by Lil Wayne…the last few years in Phoenix

              Telephone by Lady Gaga … concert with Sydney

              River of Time by the Judds …seeing the Judds with Shelbey

             Don’t You Wanna Stay by Kelly Clarkson and Jason Aldean or Think of You by 
Chris Young and Cassadee Pope my favorites right now.

     

         Music does so much for us. I have said many, many times to many people, “ I don’t know how I would have survived life, without music”. For me, music is wellness, healing, sanctuary, escape, comfort, distraction, encouragement, passion, transportation to days gone by and defineatly a staple for a sparkling life! Nothing is more intriguing than a cleaverly written lyric. I will rewind and listen to that one sentence several times, play it for anyone who will listen, amazed by,  how did they think of that? 

       You don’t have to be a musician to appreciate great music.  Music is an art that you can relate even if you don't have the creativity or ability to create it yourself. I declare that tear-jerkers, foot-tappers, rock and roll, country, rap or gospel ; some kind of music lives in everybody. What does the soundtrack to your life sound like?

               

Resignation

I will not resign because my resignation will not resolve anything, and I’m pretty persistent.  That has been my mantra as a wife and mother all these years. I have kept chirping, kept nagging, kept on pushing Kerry for a more positive outlook and better treatment of the people he loves. I give the kids the same treatment... not to drink to excess, not to smoke, to appreciate the jobs they have been given, to realize life is a journey, not a destination and it goes by fast, its all about experience...etc...etc..etc...

 I check on Sydney constantly, afraid she will be abducted, the victim of crime or commit a crime, by driving after too one to many drinks with her friends. Here in AZ, that means an automatic ten days in tent city. I don’t know who that would be harder on…her or me. I worry about Brendon’s health and Shelbey’s commute to work every day among other things.  Tell me how you don’t worry about things? How do you switch gears from following your toddlers around so they don’t get hurt, protecting your grade school kids from bullies, trying to guide your teens to a bright future only to say,"ca sera sera, whatever will be will be", once they are adults! I haven’t known how to do that.  

After I heard from a couple of doctors that the stress in my life is playing a big part in the health problems I have, I decided I needed to resign from all the worries I can somehow. I kind of had a head start on the stress between Kerry and me. Even though at times I feel guilty for being here, when he wants me there, I feel justified. I think it's best to take care of what I have built here in Phx, and he can join me when he can, after he does some more work his aggression and anger.

When it comes to resigning my mother worries, I reason with myself, saying the kids are all adults now they can make their own decisions. After all, they have snarled that sentiment to me on occasion, they are probably waiting for me to stop mothering them. I like to mother so much, that I take on mothering kids that aren’t even my own!  But my own kids are my life, and the blood that runs through my veins.  To stop fussing over the kids leaves a huge, empty, almost scared feeling. I wonder if I stop fussing about them, would I be a good mother anymore?  If I’m not a good wife or good mother then what am I?

One of mine and Kathy’s favorite movies when we were kids was, With Six You Get Eggroll, starring Brian Keith and Doris Day. When you watch those old movies, you definitely see where my generation formed our ideas like, it’s our responsibility to do everything for everybody. The men were were crabby and in control.

Here’s a summary of the work I have done lately on resignation. I have decided that resignation is really just adding God to the equation.  It is easier for me to resign if I turn my job over to someone who can do it even better than me although thats hard for me to fathom. Resignation puts God between me and my worries. I have a little sign by my light switch when I go to bed that says, “Let God Worry About It, He Stays Up All Night Anyway”.  It’s been there forever, but last night I really saw it, really let the words sink in. Sydney was out (I’m so tired of worrying about kids being out, and wonder if I will like the weekend ever again), I snapped the light out and went to bed. I didn't call her and I didnt check with her. 

 I felt strange this morning, disconnected from what she did, but determined to ride it out until it becomes a more comfortable feeling... this not checking on her thing. I’ve decided to let go and let God direct them, I won’t be around forever and it doesn’t work anyway, it just stresses me out. Resignation doesn’t have to mean quit, just submit to his plan for them and me for that matter.  I’m reminding myself that God is much more quailfied for this job than me.

That said, I’m going to dinner and a movie (Water for Elephants), with Marcy tonight. Syd's going out, the big kids are camping,  Kerry’s on a run and God’s watching over the whole bunch of us!  Whew what a relief!  

What Kind of Filter Do You Have?

Fil·ter    (fltr) KEY

      VERB:  

             To pass through a filter.

             To remove by passing through a filter: filter out impurities.

This is the filter I want...see how beautiful it lets just the right amount of light in?

I never thought I had much of a filter on my mouth; on my actions yes, (because of being self-consious about weight issues), but my mouth was a different story.  Lately, I have been thinking about how many people I know, probably myself included, when it comes to speech - could use a good filter!

Mom was a whitewasher. Yes, Mother always either said something good (if you can’t say something nice don’t say nothing at all), or she hinted.  She’d “beat around the bush”,  although she’d never admit she was doing that either . I hated that when I was first married especially, and had Brendon 2 years after we got married,  at twenty. I felt like a kid with a kid!  Until then I think I probably didn’t have so many opinions, either cuz all I had to think about was boys and chores. But when I didn’t have a Dad to ask anything about life decisions, and Kerry did have a Dad physically, that we saw on random visits,  but not in a real sense of the word, as far as being able to turn to him.  Kerry’s Mom  lived in her own little world busy with kids still at home, and my Mom was involved with us,  but not one to tell you what to do. Even when I straight up ask her what she thought she’d say, “Gosh, I dunno,  that’s your decision”. So it's kind of like i felt thrown into an ocean with no swimming lessons. I had to learn and the more I did the more I thought I knew.

 My kids are reading this and probably thinking I wish Mom was more like Grandma,   cuz I have an opinion about almost everything! Because I didn’t like not getting a straight answer from Mom, I tried to be more forthcoming.  I say what I mean, I mean what I say( unless I’m mad and wounded), and if I promise something, I do it. I can’t think of a promise I’ve broken to anyone( not that my Mom broke promises, quite the contrary, she was big on promise keeping). I try to say what I want to say with a filter, and most of the time in a "I hear you, you hear me way,  so as not to be too harsh.

When I think of people filtering what they say, I think of those cheap, most of the time cracked, roller shades we used to have on the windows to either let sun in or keep it out. There are some options to this filtering thing, some better than others I've found.  You can leave the window bare and have none. That's option one.  You can get the cheap one that lets in alot of sun but alot of harmful rays as well( this is the one I think I have). That's option 2. Then you can get a better one that is probably the best because there is some light and some dark(opt 3), and then you can splurge on the room darkening one so nothing comes through(opt 4).

Compare how people filter what they say and do to those filters. Mom had the expensive one…never told you what to do, you had to figure it out for yourself.  I remember being so disappointed and I felt foolish when I was having nervous problems after Shelbey was born.  For 2 months she must have taken me to the emergency room ten times,  and again that many Dr. visits, because of panic disorder and post-partum depression. I was sure I was having heart problems and from what I knew Mom thought so too.  

When they finally admitted me to the hospital and were sending me to the psych ward no less…Mom says to me, “I’ve been afraid of this all along, I saw my Aunt Sarah have post-partum depression, and I wondered all along, if you didn’t have that”!!  I was dumbfounded! I thought, WHAT? YOU THOUGHT I WAS HAVING EMOTIONAL PROBLEMS ALL ALONG….NOT PHYSICAL PROBLEMS ALL THIS TIME, AND NEVER SAID ONE WORD??  I actually felt really foolish, and like maybe everyone knew but me!  I trusted her to be honest all this time. She never said you don't have emotional problems, she never said you do have physical problems, nope...she just never said anything!  So Mom definitely had the “keep you in the dark option 4 one”.  I don’t blame her, she had her reasons I’m sure, but I didn’t like that and don’t like that in people still. It feels sneaky or something to me.  

      I have a filter but it’s the cheapest one, it lets in a lot of sunshine but doesn’t keep out the harmful stuff either.  I’d like to upgrade to a better one and know I need to,  to really be my best self.  In my quest to tell it like it is, mean what I say, and “honesty is the best policy”…sometimes that’s a little rough on the people that know me well. I always preface what I’m going to say with, “this is just my opinion” but….( You know what they say about opinions, "they are like _______ and everyone has one)".  So, I’m trying to be a little less sure my opinion is always the right one, even though I’m still pretty sure it is ha…

      A lot of people I’m noticing have absolutely no filter or shade,  and really need one; even a cracked, tattered, old one would be better than having none!  They act however they want; say whatever they want,  to whomever they want!  I have been shocked lately by, for example, Kendra on dancing with the stars. Last night I wanted to reach through the TV screen, take her aside and say stop acting so negative, unlady like, and trashy. Filter yourself for your own good. She was shaking her head no, no, on the way out to dance, like a kid at their first dance performance rather than a married mother who was being paid a lot of money as a “star”!  She didn’t like the music, she didn’t want to act like a lady, blah blah…then why sign up for a show that does many styles of dance?

        Whineona Judd is another example. She came off on that reality show as a self-absorbed, ungrateful, bitchy, whining, person with no respect for her Mother. Her Mother has her own issues but it’s your Mother!  That is a major pet peeve of mine!

        I can honestly say I always treated my Mother with respect, even if we disagreed and we did at times. I always said to her, “ no matter what you’re the best Mom in the world”…just because I’m mad right now that you won’t let me withdraw all my savings to buy Kerry a motorcycle, ( a moment of insanity I had there),  I still know I have the best Mom in the world. So many people have totally lost respect for their parents.  I don’t care what you think they have or haven’t done,  you owe them the decency to respect all they did do for you. Even if you didn’t get a silver spoon like you think others have and you’re entitled to, or whatever the beef. They still changed you, fed you, paid for your needs, were there for you as well as they could be, with what they had to give, physically and emotionally. I know there are extreme cases of neglect and abuse but I’m talking about your average parents, who did the best they could with the knowledge, resources and stability they had at the moment.

       Even on Facebook, you see people talking inappropriately about grandparents, parents etc…filter people filter! Get one, even a crappy one is better than none!  Be careful what you reveal about yourself and think over if that’s something you want to do. I reveal a lot about myself(such as having post partum depression in 1979), and I do think it over believe it or not,  but like I said I have the cheap filter. I ask myself if telling this would help someone, including myself to tell it. I try to walk a fine line.( sometimes I cross it by telling too, much I’m sure) but I try to walk the fine line of sharing, but not oversharing. I want people to know you can have panic and be plaqued by it and overcome it, and I had it BAD...bad enough to be hospitalized for six weeks.

Having an opinion but balancing the negative with positive is a good thing.  When I get it right,  I will have upgraded to that finer filter…the one that keeps just the right about of good and bad in your from flowing out of your mouth.

       I’m writing about this because it makes such an impression on those around us, the filter we use, and one extreme is as bad as the other IN MY OPINION, AND OF COURSE AND YOU ALL KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT OPINIONS…..

My Second Mom

My Second Mom

     My older sister Marcy was fourteen when I was born. The sound of her voice, and the comfort that brings, has been around as long as I have. Her birthday is coming up and every year I value her more than the year before.

                       Marcy and I                            

      I don’t remember a lot about her living at home, except where her place at the dinner table was - because it was next to me behind the table by the window.  When I was about to start grade school, she left home to go to Minot State Teachers College, about fifty miles away from the farm.  She came home some weekends, and more than once she invited Kathy and I to take turns staying with her in Minot. She always came up with something really fun, to make our stay special. For me one time, she rented a double bicycle and we rode to the Oak Park Movie theater to see the new Elvis movie, Spinout.  Staying at her sorority house, where she had a room, she let us take a bath with a “full” tub of water!  That never happened  at home, because Mom had to pay to have water hauled into the cistern, so we just got about a fourth of a tub of water for a bath. Marcy has many times laughed about Kathy and I having so much fun in the full tub of water, we started shouting, “we’re drowning , we’re drowning”!  She was pretty embarrassed that we acted like such little country bumpkins to her sigma sigma friends! But she loved her little sisters, the country mice, and always made sure we had a good time in the city!

     Shortly after I turned twelve, Marcy got married two weeks after our Dad died. They had postponed the wedding when he was in the hospital thinking he'd be able to attend if they moved the date. After the wedding,  she moved away to Salt Lake City,  Utah, where Jerry attended the university there. They moved to  Phoenix  after Jerry graduated, making Phoenix her home all these years.  Back in the first years after she moved, we didn’t call on the phone like we do now, so her moving was a sobering and permanent thing.  We wrote letters, and Mom handled her moving matter of factly, although I know she missed her a lot.  

      I remember wanting to date before the age of sixteen, because I started school when I was five. Everyone else in my class was dating already,  because they were all sixteen except Holly Johnson and I. Holly was two days younger than me and she was dating Darrell Swensrud,  so why couldn’t I? I wrote Marcy and ask her to tell Mom to "get with the times" in so many words. Marcy wrote me back a long letter that said also in so many words…”listen to Mom, she has your best interests in mind”.  So I had to wait. Thanks Marcy,... I can say that now.

     It seemed for a while in my later high school days, and her early days of putting all her energy into her career as a teacher and her duties as a wife, that we weren’t as close as we had been. Not for any reason… just not having much in common, or making the time for each other.  Then I got married and she had Heidi and Heather and I had Brendon. All of a sudden the years between us disappeared; we talked on the phone a lot and shared our lives. She had Jenny and Jess, and I had Shelbey and Sydney. We visited back and forth and always tried to make the times special for the kids, so they had fun memories together.

 Me, Heidi and Marcy

                              My family on the left, and Marcy's on the right 

 

       The first time my kids went to Disneyland we drove from Phoenix with the Waltons. Marcy rented van which turned out to have bullet holes in it from the LA riots! We noticed the holes after we got home with the car they assigned us! That's not a good sign when your taking a van full of kids to the very same city! 

         We slept in a tent trailer camper and camped in the middle of LA… six kids and four adults. We were neatly packaged in that camper like  bun size Oscar Meyers that night... wall to wall!  Finally snoozing in the tent trailer, the floor lined with sleeping kids, guess who gets a stomache ache in the middle of the night? Not just the "one trip stomache ache"…but the "three or four trip kind" we’ve all had.... MARCY!!

      I kept hearing the zipper going down in the tent trailer and she was trying to sneak out…of course I’d never let her venture to a public bathroom at 3am, in a campground, in the middle of the city, so we both went three or four times. She used the restroom and I sat in the next stall and we discussed the next days plans, as we had the whole bathroom to ourselves at that hour!  We went to Knotts Berry Farm, Disneyland , took the kids to the ocean and had a great time, crowded or not! When they came to ND, I’d try to plan fun things for them too, so the kids could make memories together.

All the kids at Disneyland

       When we needed to move Sydney from Minot, Marcy opened her heart and home to Sydney and I, without thinking twice. After a few months,  I moved into the house I live in now. Alone with Sydney, I was scared here. In July the air conditioning broke  and I cold called a young guy from the phone book,  and he came and fixed it. Syd and I left the house shortly after he drove off, SO happy to have the air blowing away and planned to come back to a nice, cool, house after a movie.

       Instead the heater had been blowing the whole time! The air conditioner guy had wired the thermostat wrong! I called him and at eleven o’clock at night making sure he'd come right away in the morning.  Instead,  he said he would come fix his mistake right away and that he’d be getting there at 1am! He was coming from the other end of the city! If you’ve ever been in AZ in the summer with no air conditioning, you’ll understand that YOU HAVE TO HAVE AIR, so I wanted him to come the sooner the better.  As soon as I hung up the phone, I started thinking about what if his mistake was really a set up? What if he came earlier and did it wrong on purpose, to get in later and rape Syd or something? I didn't trust anyone.

      I called Marcy with my concerns knowing Jerry was out of town but I just needed her opinion. How weird did she think it seemed, that he was willing to come way over here? She, being a full fledged  worrywart herself,  came right over with Jerrys' pistol and hid in the laundry room until the guy left. Turned out he was perfectly legit. After laughing about being such chickens, Marcy picked up her pistol in the holster, laying on the washing machine, and sleepily headed home- at two am!

Marcy and I in Branson

       A few months ago, the first day I rode my horse, he was stubborn. I sent Sydney to the barn for a little whip to keep his attention, and after a half hour or so of making him mind with it, and him acting up a little, Marcy came out and yelled, “Don’t overdue it so he bucks you off or something...” . That was just like Mom would do. She would have been watching from the window and being sure I was safe. I tell that story so you see the kind of person Marcy is. She still Mothers me and I'm 55 and shes 69! That has been a comfort to me since Mom died.

Playing fox and goose for old times sake...

            Marcy is so many things to me. My sister, my friend, my parent figure, my confidante, my shoulder to cry on,  and someone to celebrate with.  We are very different in many ways. I tell it like it is, she smooths everything over. Marcy actually likes chaos and I hate it. She has perfect handwriting, spelling and diction and in contrast, my hand writing reflects my mood, I can’t spell without spell check, and I talk like a hillbilly! She is serious and I see the lighter side. I love loud blaring music when I drive and clean and she likes silence. Marcy cares what people think and I’m like whatever, like me... or leave.
     We are the same in as many ways, as we are different. Being a Mom is where it’s at for both of us. When we go out for a meal, the waitress comes to the table, and we order the exact same thing nine times out of ten. We would both do anything for anybody if we wanted to, but don’t like to be expected to do anything. Sisters are funny like that,... so different and yet so similar.

In Las Vegas at Tom Jones

           Happy Birthday beloved sister…every child should have the blessings of a sister, a lifetime friend, like mine. She makes my problems her problems, and shares my highest highs and lowest lows. Thank you Marcy, for all you have done for me over the years. I love you and hope you have a wonderful birthday. She and I are celebrating her birthday by going to Marcella’s Ristorante in Scottsdale this weekend, and seeing Sooner or Later at the Hale Theatre.

Last year on my birthday