21 Gun Salute

"We're dealing with children, they need to be terrified, it's like mothers milk to them - without it their bones won't grow properly." (Sue Sylvester - Glee)

My baby is 21 today. I'm not going to dwell on how old that makes me feel, because today's not about me. Actually, no day is about me. Once you're a mom it's rarely about you. It's all about how to get this creature who was just squeezed out of a very small and heretofore generally unseen part of your body and laid in all her gooey glory on your breast to adulthood. To become a reasonably well-adjusted, contributing member of society. To not pick her nose or her wedgie in public. To bathe regularly, change her underwear daily, keep embarrassing images off of Facebook, respect those in authority, love God, and call or text her mom occasionally. And not necessarily in that order.

Somehow in this crazy whirlwind life we've led she managed to grow up by all accounts and appearances to be healthy and well adjusted. As a family we have made more memories in these 21 years than most people make in a lifetime. And she's just getting started. Twenty-one is an important milestone, and I've been trying to think of something new that I would add to the things I wish for her. But really, my wishes are the same as they have been from that first moment on February 7, 1989.

Now that both my daughters are adults, I suppose my desires for my children have morphed into a more grown-up version.

• Love God. It's THE thing that really matters over the course of your life, not to mention eternity.
• Be transparent. You know I have a thing about that.
• Don't put off really living this day. It's easy to get caught up waiting for something better, something bigger, something...whatever. Don't waste today waiting for that something.
• Forgive, then forget. Unforgiveness rots the soul. Just let it go.
• Find joy in the simple. Sometimes life sucks, so it's important to cultivate the habit of looking for joy in unexpected places.

I just know I couldn't be prouder, couldn't be more impressed, couldn't be more grateful.

Happy 21st, sweet girl.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

Wow the last seven days have been, um, interesting...exhausting...challenging. I anticipated they would not be a walk in the park, so to speak. But I probably underestimated the need to dig deep and pull up from the depths both physical and emotional strength beyond what I thought I had in reserve. And there's the problem. One must start with some reserves in order to tap into said reserves.

My husband's parents are now moved out of their Kansas home and into our new shared home in Oklahoma. (We must sell our current home before joining them.) There is still a lifetime of accumulated stuff to go through in the garage and the kitchen is not fully unpacked. But the basics are in place. Including the mailbox, which apparently got knocked down while the new home was empty. Funny how you don't notice things until you wander out to see if the mail has been forwarded yet, but are unable to actually find the mail receptacle.

If we weren't already on a first name basis at Home Depot, we are now.

Did I mention that we also lightly passed over Father's Day and Mark's 50th birthday? By the time Sunday rolled around we were too exhausted to celebrate anything except that we could go back to work on Monday and sit down for a few hours. Indoors.

Can I be honest? Well, as honest as I can be on a blog that people actually read? I have no problem getting along with my in-laws. I have great hope for our ability to coexist peacefully. It's when other folks get all up in our business, giving out unsolicited advice, whispering discontent, that things don't go well. The four of us have to make our own way, find a new normal in this transition. It's not going to be easy for any of us, but I think it will be worth it.

Mark and I lead fast paced lives and will need to slow down and actually listen respectfully before moving ahead with plans or changes or opinions. The in-laws are from what has been called "The Greatest Generation", a group of fiercely independent folks who endured and thrived despite great hardship. They will need to learn the art of graceful dependence as their bodies and minds begin to betray them.

There are many challenges ahead, but I anticipate an improved quality of life for all of us. May God be with us in this new phase.

Oh, and happy birthday to my precious Mark. 50 is a respectable age. Your body has given you a present of a few gray hairs. I kinda like them.

The view is spectacular up here

My baby brother turns 40 today, which makes him not so much a baby as a middle aged man.

My middle aged bother turns 40 today. Happy Birthday Stephen! (note - I was just proof reading and realized I wrote bother instead of brother. I'm gonna leave it, because really, have you ever had a baby brother?)

I was talking to my brother on the phone the other day, discussing our upcoming family trip to visit him and explore Portland and the Oregon coast. I mentioned the fact that both he and Mark are marching over the hill. Mark turns 50 in June. Mark is waaayyyy older than me!

Stephen aptly pointed out that everyone has it backwards. It's not like everything is easier and on a breezy downhill slope when you get older. I have to agree. Everything gets harder. The knees and back hurt more readily, energy is in shorter supply, even peeing is sometimes optional -or sometimes involuntary.

According to my brilliant brother (and he is brilliant -his IQ is in the stratosphere), we should consider all of life a downhill journey until we get to middle age, at which point it turns uphill. So I guess rather than all those "Over the Hill" party supplies, they should really say "Enjoy the valley. It's all uphill from here!"

So enjoy the climb little brother. Seriously - the best years are ahead of you.

My friend is 50!

A life long friend of mine had her 50th birthday this week. Some people come and go, and some seem to become a permanent part of your life. My early memories of her are of us playing together on my Grandma Johnson's living room floor. Grandma Johnson was a sewer and a quilter, and she had made us some matching outfits out of scraps that were cuter than anything you could buy at the store. In fact, I remember my Grandma made her the sweetest bedspread for her canopy bed out of pink gingham.

She was physically much more mature than I, with an early onset of curves and a tiny little waste that most grown women would die for. As we got older she had a ridiculous crush on this scrawny guy with a gelmet. Seriously, the guy had no balls at all. I never really knew what she saw in him with his early 70's spandex outfits. She had a little sister who was as flat as a pancake and it was always funny to see the two of them side by side. Nobody ever said life was fair.

It was her pink convertible that I was most jealous of. Long before I could drive she was jetting around with the top down, stopping at her dream house only long enough to change into yet another sparkly set of clothes before heading out to another party or tennis match. OK, I was also jealous of those tiny feet that slipped so easily into impossibly high heals while I skipped along in my Keds.

That woman never seems to age either. By the time my own children came along, she was just as slim and curvaceous as always, but with even better hair and a darker tan. Some people warned me not to let my impressionable young daughters associate with her. After all, with her impossibly perfect face and figure, she might somehow send them the message that they weren't good enough - that all women were supposed to look like her. But I ignored the warnings, and I think my daughters turned out just fine. I hope to someday introduce my granddaughters to this fabulous, ageless friend.

I recently came across some picture of what she looked like when we first met. Seriously, we should all be so lucky to age as well.

Monday already

Ah Monday. My days are all messed up. I took Friday off, worked Saturday, had a busy Sunday and wow, here we are back at the beginning again. Was there a weekend and I missed it?

You know how when you see identical twins you get all "oh, how cute" and stuff? But it's just weird when you see two 47 year old identical twins. I "volunteered" at my sister's school (she's the principal) on Friday, teaching Junior Achievement to 1st graders. They had a volunteer for every classroom so the school was full of extra people. My twin sister and I don't think we look alike, but the reaction of other people says otherwise. I forgot to put on my "I'm not Mrs. Zimmerman" badge so was accosted repeatedly by people who wanted me to sign something or discuss some random piece of paper I'd never seen or just say hi. By the way sis, your new office chairs will be in some time next week. I went with blue. Also, I'm sure it really irks her that people mistake me for her since I'm the more, um, expanded version. I've got a good number of pounds on her. She's one of those "oh, I'll just have some pita chips and humus for lunch" kind of people. I'm not.

After wrangling 1st graders all day I shot over to The State's University to wish Tessa a happy 20th. Mark went to see his parents, so I had Tessa all to myself. She's had the flu all week, but was still healthy enough for a free dinner out and to ask for a new dress. We went to three stores and there was nothing appealing out there. You would think with the bad economy everyone is talking about the stores would be overflowing with merchandise. Apparently Stillwater didn't get the memo, 'cause they got nothin'. But she got a free meal and a delicious pink cake and her momma all to herself. Well, she also got a Coach Swingpack, but that was given to her earlier. So no, I didn't just give her a cake and make her ask for a new dress. Sheesh.

Angela worked with me on Saturday, which really made having to work so much better. Somehow I managed to have the most amazing daughters. And believe me, it wasn't because of my stellar parenting skills. Sometimes I think some kids are just born exceptional. Once a priest in Romania told me they have a saying that every crow thinks her child is a dove. Just thought I'd throw that out there. I remember asking him if he was calling me an old crow. He was a very funny priest.

Last night we saw Brian Regan at the Civic Center. Mark laughed for 120 minutes without stopping. I thought he was going to bust something. I laughed too, but my laughing is sort of more nodding my head and thinking "now that's funny". I'm not so much a guffaw-er. But my face did hurt by the end of the evening. That's a good sign.

Oh, and one more thing. My kitchen cabinet doors were delivered on Friday. They are beautiful hand made doors, which is out of character for this old house. It will be sort of like putting pearls on a pig. I started the long painting process and now I'm hallucinating from the fumes. I think I'll let the air clear a bit before attempting to hang them. I don't want it to look like Peewee Herman's kitchen.

Hope you have a good one. Mondays lead to Fridays so it's almost the weekend.

What I was doing in 1989

My baby is 20 today. Happy birthday baby girl. If these last two decades were a color, they would be bright, sunny yellow. Well, since you're at "the State's University" maybe your color should be orange. Either way, my memories are filled with fun, energy and activity. Can't wait to see what the next decade holds. Also, it's a good thing I stopped having birthdays, because then I would be OLD. I cannot possibly have a child who is twenty. What? My other precious daughter is 23? Fine. Then I am certifiably old. Better start saving for the assisted living center. Eat your pink cake and have an awesome celebration.

Happy Birthday

I do not do birthdays well. Maybe my immediate family - husband and two daughters. But otherwise I suuucckkk at remembering or celebrating birthdays. I've tried keeping calendars, sending myself reminders, buying cards ahead of time. Nothing seems to work. The only birthday I never forget is my twin sister's for obvious reasons. Seriously. The reason is obvious. Think about it.

So...

Happy Birthday Dad. Sorry I missed it. I'm a dope. But that doesn't reflect my love and my desire for you to have your best year yet. Thanks for a lifetime of dad-ness. Love ya!

Happy Birthday Bonus Dad. I was out of town on your bday but that wouldn't have made a difference really. I at least remembered it :) Draw me something pretty with your new art supplies. Kisses!

Happy Birthday Cori. I know it's not your birthday yet, but it will be in less than a week and I'll probably forget to twitter you a happy bday, so consider yourself greeted. You're an amazing and gifted young woman. Hugs!

Anybody I missed in January?