No Parking

I've had an epiphany recently regarding parking spaces.

Ah, the parking lot, an asphalt jungle of racing cars, weaving up and down the rows, looking for the prime space to deposit one's vehicle.  Why is the perfect parking spot so important to us?  I get entertained watching folks zip in and out of the aisles for several minutes, taking a risk by passing up a mid-level spot.  They will gamble that mediocre spot and several more minutes of their time in hopes of finding that coveted front row space!  Fights will even break out over certain spots.

And then there's the handicapped space.  Gone are the days of handicapped spaces being reserved for actual handicapped people.  Now, those blue placards featuring a stick person in a wheelchair are awarded for the most mundane handicaps.  I understand that some people have ailments that are not visible to the general public.  Those aren't the people I'm talking about.  I'm talking about the people who really don't deserve that wheelchair placard; people I know.

For example, I know two women my age who each have parents with disabilities.  Neither of them are the primary caregiver for their parents but they both have a handicapped placard hanging from their rearview mirror.  And let me tell you, they sure do use them!  I jokingly called one of them out on it by saying, "Hey, you're not handicapped!"  Her answer was, "Look at me, I have four kids and I'm a mess!  Do I look well to you?"  I just shrugged.  I wanted to answer, Maybe not, but it's against the law!

Another scenario is a woman younger than me who has a slight knee problem.  She can walk for hours in the mall, but her car sits in that front spot with a handicapped sign in the window.  A friend of mine told me she is embarrassed to ride with her and is uncomfortable when the woman uses her handicapped sticker.

Then there's the woman who works at the school that parks right beside the front door.  The extra 100 feet walk from the parking lot must be too much for her but the two story staircase to her classroom isn't a problem.

A man in our church apparently has a disability, but no one seems to know what it is.  He appears fine in every way and even works on roofs.  But he has a handicapped sign in his shiny, red car.  The funny thing about this guy is that his teenage son drives everywhere they go.  He drops his parents off at the door then swings around to a handicapped space.  After service, he returns to the handicapped space and picks them up at the front door.

I'm sorry, but I have a major issue with this!  I had a grandfather with a disease I can't pronounce that caused him to lose control over his limbs.  Walking was very difficult for him; he looked like a severely drunk person.  But his pride kept him out of a wheelchair for as long as possible.  He was someone who needed a handicapped spot.  My grandma couldn't drop him off alone at a building so they both had to walk from wherever they were parked.  If they missed out on their space because of one of these people I mentioned above, I would be quite irate.

So, I told you I've had an epiphany.  It's actually regarding the rest of the spaces in the lot.  There are good spots, there are mediocre spots, and there are spots that have a different zip code from the actual building.   Those best spots are simply first come, first served.  Instead, I feel like those spots should be labeled For Those Who NEED Them. 

There were times when I needed a front row spot.  Like when I was going to my 2-week postpartum checkup with my newborn baby.  I was still not supposed to lift her carrier because of my C-Section.  I didn't have help that day so I parked as close as I could and carried her in anyway.  (Setting up the stroller would have been more physically challenging than just carrying the seat.)  Then there was the time that I sprained my ankle.  Life went on and I still had errands to run.  A front row parking space would have been divine.  They don't give out temporary handicapped stickers for sprained ankles.

I have a new mantra.  I am young, I am fit, I am well.  I am not in need of that front row space and I am very thankful for that.  So I've recently started parking all the way in the back of the parking lot and enjoying the walk into the building.  It's just me and the fancy cars back there.  Some might laugh to see a scratched up mini-van parked among the BMWs, Lexus, and Range Rovers.  But it puts a smile on my face and makes me feel like perhaps I've done something good today.  Not only did I get some exercise, but I might have saved a prime spot for someone who really needs it today.

Gram

Gram and Gramp enjoying their
Christmas gift last year

My Grandmother's Alzheimer's gets worse every day.  How my Grandfather continues to care for her blows my mind.  She hasn't known me for quite a while, although sometimes she'll talk about all my kids.  She still has a sense of humor from time to time, joking that I have a lot of kids. 

She forgets my mom often now, saying things like, "Did she leave yet?"  My mom will respond, "Who are you talking about, Mom?  I'm the only one here."  My Grandmother, who never had a mean bone in her body, has adopted a completely new personality.  It's astounding.  I've heard that many people afflicted with Alzheimer's end up swearing like a sailor, when they never cursed in their lives.  Fortunately, Gram hasn't taken to swearing yet.  It will shock me if it ever does happen.

Today, I dropped by to bring a casserole.  We try to cook often for them, since Gramp is left with all of the household duties.  She approached me with a desperate look on her face and grabbed my arm.  She started mumbling something incoherent but stopped suddenly.  Gramp was approaching and she eyed him suspiciously.  We chatted for a couple minutes about handkerchiefs that she had been folding.  He took his pocket squares into the bedroom to put away and Gram's look of desperation came back.  "Call my husband right away and tell him to get here right now."  Confused, I offered a supportive, "That is your husband, Grandma.  That's him."  Not convinced, she pleaded with me to get her husband there right away.  There's no arguing with her.  She's firm on whatever she believes at that instant.  When Gramp returned, she stopped speaking and looked away nonchalantly.  He sat in a chair and she started whispering to me again.  He heard  his name mentioned and asked her who she was looking for.  She shook her head and refused to answer.  He told her that he heard his name and that's him.  He's her husband.  She refused to accept this information.

With my kids waiting in the car, I tried to wrap up the visit.  She wouldn't allow me to leave without asking one more time for me to call her husband.  I patted him on the shoulder and once again told her this was him.  I tried to joke that he's just looking a little older, that's all.  She didn't dismiss it this time but still looked at me with a desperate expression.  "I promise," I said, "this is him.  I wouldn't deceive you."  She finally relented but didn't look convinced.  "Well," she said, "I guess that does look like the shirt he was wearing this morning."  So she can't remember her spouse of 61 years but recognizes his shirt.  I guess that's the way it goes.

I left the house with my heart breaking.  I couldn't say much to Gramp or Gram would have thought we were conspiring against her.  "I'm sorry you have to deal with that," was all I could say.  I pray for God to give him the strength to handle her every day.  Even though her dementia has been progressing for years, I still have such a hard time accepting it.  She was my favorite person growing up and I was so honored to be the only descendant to inherit her green eyes.  I even named my first daughter after her.  I reminded her of that again today and told her that I also named my son after my Grandpa.  She didn't pretend to remember that but acted honored.

As soon as I arrived home, I got a call from Gramp.  He explained that Grandma wanted to talk to me.  I could try to remember the conversation but none of it made sense.  The beginning of a sentence in no way matched the end of the same sentence.  I just replied with several "sures" and "OKs."  But at the end of the conversation, she seemed to be asking me to call her husband again. 

The worst part of an ailing mind is not that the person has lost their memory.  It's the fact that they no longer are able to find happiness in any part of their life.  If she was confused and happy, I would be happy.  But seeing her constantly upset is what causes me the most pain.  I try to find the positive in the situation, even though it's nearly impossible.  Our days with her are numbered so I need to enjoy her while I can.  I like to look at her and pretend that she's still my Grandma from ten years ago.  Even if the present isn't happy, at least the past is.

Tweens

Oh, the drama of being a 12-year old boy!  So many responsibilities....where to begin???

Son #1 has been getting quite mouthy lately.  Anything we say to him is met with sarcasm, complaining, yelling, or eye rolling.  We haven't even entered the teenage years yet!

Last night, Hubby asked #1 to take out the trash.  His response was "I have to do everything!"  Everything?  Really?  A list of my daily activities immediately started scrolling through my mind - Laundry, Cooking, Cleaning, Chauffeuring, Financing, Grocery Shopping.... the list could go on and on, as each of you know.  Well, Hubby had had enough of his attitude and blew up.  It involved screaming, phone and iPod grounding, and lectures.

Then, as a typical Mom who hates to see her kids in pain, I began questioning myself.  Do I really give him too many chores?  That lasted a whole two seconds before I started laughing hysterically.  My kids all have responsibilities.  Those responsibilities get greater as the child gets older.  Baby Girl just has to help pick up her blocks and Legos when she's done playing.  Big Sis has to keep her room somewhat clean (I help out from time to time) and do her daily chore.  She is responsible for lining up the many pairs of shoes kicked off on the rug.  The boys have to keep their room clean and bed made and they do one chore a day. 

When chores were being reevaluated some time ago, we had a discussion.  I gave them a list of things they could help out with.  They picked folding laundry and emptying the dishwasher.  Fortunately, both of these things need to be done daily.  So we alternate back and forth.  If you folded a load yesterday, you have dishwasher today.  That's not too tough, is it?

The boys also have to help take the trash out each week and drag the trash cans back up to the house.  They watch their sister outside and do little odds and ends ("Go put that stroller back in the garage.")

But then I began thinking about what an Amish child of the same age would be doing.  Of course, he's homeschooled so he would have more time at home.  But he's up and moving while my kids are still in the middle of a REM cycle.  He's milking cows and feeding chickens.  He's hauling corn and hay and sweeping out the barn.  At the age of 12, he's surely driving the horse and buggy (or large farm tractor if they're progressive Amish).  He works from before sunrise until dark.  Do you think he complains?  I would guess not.  He would likely get a switch across the behind if he talked like that to his father.

We have always prided ourselves on being tough on our kids.  We hold them to a high standard and expect a lot out of them.  In turn, we hope that this will help them become well-adjusted adults who are capable of managing their lives.  So I think it's now time to raise the bar and demand more respect from our son. 

We may have a tough road ahead of us as we near the teenage years.  But as I look back, I remember pacing the floor with him in the middle of the night as he was teething with gas pains.  If I was able to handle that, I can certainly handle this.  A tween is just a different kind of screaming, teething baby.

Attn Fllwrs...Plz Read

Maybe this means I'm getting older but I totally cannot stand text message lingo!  I hate it when people spell words wrong on purpose and LOL grates on my nerves.  This being said, I don't mind when people use U to represent the word you or THX for thanks.  I can let that slide.  But 2mro (tomorrow) or gng (going) is just plain ridiculous.  Sometimes, it gets to the point that you cannot read what is being said.  Sure, it might have saved you time to type it, but it's taking me twice as long to read!

For example, I was recently invited to a little boy's first birthday party.  His mother is an unmarried high school girl who has very little sense.  She created a Facebook page to invite people to his party.  Here is what she wrote:

"ok guys ______s bda is gnastart at noon and go to when ever, ad we are goona have hot dogs bugers, and cake fel free obrnga coverd dish seeing that i am haveing trouble with money, and any games u wanna play corn hole anything, if u are going to bing a lil kid plz let me know and PLZ BRNG THEM S HE CAN MAE NEW FRIEND!!!"

For those of you over 40,  here is the translation:
OK, guys, ______'s birthday is going to start at noon and go until whenever.  We are going to have hot dogs, burgers, and cake.  Feel free to bring a covered dish, seeing as I am having trouble with money.  Also, bring any games you want to play, like corn hole.  If you are going to bring a little kid, please let me know.  Please bring them so he can make new friends.

It seriously took me several times through to get the gist of the message.  Is it just me or is this irritating to other people too?

It's actually pretty sad when you think about it.  Here's a message all of you can teach your kids:

-Instead of being promiscuous in high school, pay attention in class.  It will be well worth it in the end.

Or if they can't understand that, text them:

-Dude dnt get kncked up n skool lsten Nsted

Catching Up

Well, that Blast From the Past deal didn't work out as I had planned.  The sponsor forgot that she was hosting this event and got tied up with other things.  But I had put way too much work into finding and photographing the pictures and writing the little snippets that went with them.  So I just let it roll.  If she gives it another go next month, I'll just link to these posts from the past week.  Hopefully someone enjoyed them!

I feel like I haven't really blogged for a week.  I haven't discussed what has been going on in my life lately.  So I think this will be a random-what-I've-been-up-to post.

Monday was a perfect, although blistering hot, day.  We were able to co-celebrate Memorial Day and Hubby's birthday with a kiddie pool and lots of good food.

Tuesday was another scorcher as I helped with Field Day at school.  We played a cool Pirates & Sailors game that totally wiped me out.  Then a friend and I went to Hobby Lobby to get teacher gifts.  Baby Girl was well overdue for her nap and was causing quite a ruckus.  She was standing on the side of the cart, holding on to the basket, which caused the entire cart to tip over and land right on top of her.  The calm person that I am, I lifted the cart, scolded her for climbing, then picked her up and checked her out.  Store patrons and employees acted like I was a horrible person and parent for not flipping out.  I guess they wanted me to run the aisles screaming, "Call 911!"  The cashier called "Code 3!" over the intercom and a store manager came running.  It was quite embarrassing.  Baby Girl had quit crying by this point and was burying her head in my shoulder out of her own embarrassment.  The manager insisted I have her checked out for a head injury.  She didn't hit her head.  The cart fell on her stomach.  When I asked her what hurt, twice she pointed to her cheek.  She was fine and still is fine.  I ended up leaving the things I was purchasing on a bench and just left the store.  It was not a good time.

Wednesday was Son #2's spelling bee.  He did wonderfully, considering his shyness, and even made it farther than his brainiac brother did the two years prior.  He was able to go out with a bang, requiring the use of the audio recording to determine if he did indeed say the E in chimney.  I'm still pretty uncertain on that one but they gave him the benefit of the doubt.  Still a bit shaken the next round, he missed assembly.  He should have gotten that one.

Thursday was practically perfect in every way.  (My birthday.)  In the morning was #2's elementary graduation.   They played Pomp and Circumstance as he collected his Presidential Achievement Award.  Then I enjoyed lunch with 8 friends at a Japanese steakhouse and had chocolaty ice cream.  I took a food induced coma/nap afterward and enjoyed some time on the patio.  For dinner, Hubby took me the Italian restaurant where we got engaged.  I had toasty bread with 3" of melty cheese on top.  It was sinful.

Friday, #2 had an out-of-school swimming party so I sat lazily in a friend's backyard.  We had another fabulous dinner without the kids, which was my aunt's gift to me.  I bought some orange shoes at T.J. Maxx.  Every woman deserves to own a pair of orange shoes, I decided.

On Saturday, we were hit with some pretty big hail.  We are badly in need of a new roof so we're hoping that insurance might cover the cost due to hail damage.  An adjuster is coming out this week.

Yesterday was a funeral and today begins Son #1's basketball camp.  Does your life seem to be getting busier and busier too???

Blogger's Choice

Today, I have my choice of old pictures to post.  I went through a couple of my mom's albums and picked out some of my favorites.



I was awfully cute!  Actually, I look a lot like Baby Girl here!



I knew I wanted to be a teacher from a very young age.
This is me teaching a classroom of "students."



I also wanted to own a restaurant.



Me as Pipi Longstocking for Right to Read Week
at school



Check out that library!  (I was always a big
Dr. Seuss fan!)



This one reminds me so much of Baby Girl!



I got my fishing skills from my dad and my fashion sense from my mom!





Bad Boys, Bad Boys - Whatcha Gonna Do?

Today's photo assignment is "My Parents Would Kill Me..."  Sorry to say, I was a good girl.  I rarely did anything that my parents didn't know about.  But if I did, I was much too smart to allow it to be photographed.  So instead, I'll post a few pictures of bad things my own kids have done.  (You may have seen some of these before.)

Actually, those were much funnier than they were bad.  I probably have better things on video, but who has time to go through hours and hours worth of video???

Deal of the Day

Today on Groupon.com, you can purchase a $20 Old Navy gift card for $10!  I thought it was a fabulous deal and wanted to pass it on.  I just bought one myself.  Thanks to Lena for passing on this information!

The deal ends soon so sign on right away!

I Was Really Proud

As a mother of four kids, there have been a lot of times when I've been proud.  The first time they said "Mama" or when they took their first step.  When they've been in Spelling Bees, school plays, and band concerts, when they've sang in church, and when they've brought home letters saying that they have been accepted into the gifted program.  They make me proud every day when they help take care of their baby sister, when they set the table without being asked, and when they reach out to a new kid who has yet to make any friends.

But all that began the day that each of them were born.  Hearing "It's a Boy!" or "It's a Girl" just thrilled my heart each time!  I was enamoured with them from the moment I first saw each one of their squishy little faces.

To pick one moment that made me proud is too difficult.  Instead, I have to pick all of them.

Tears on my Pillow

A time that made me cry...

My wedding, the birth of each of my babies, a few bad marital fights, death, the end of Titanic...

As I get older, I tend to tear up a bit more often.  I think it's just life's experiences weighing on me.

This picture shows one of the first times I remember tearing up.  I can't say I actually boo-hoo cried, but I remember being pretty sad.  It was my first day of Kindergarten.

It was a rainy day and I was terrified to go into the big school on the hill without my Mommy.  I was a very shy kid who didn't even speak to adults.  So how was I going to make it all day with this strange lady in charge of me and no mom to tell me, "Say thank you," or "Get in line now."?  That smile on my face is fake.  I wasn't happy.  I wanted to stay at home and play with my toys.  But my mom pushing me to go out on my own was one of the best things she ever did for me.  If I was allowed to make my own decisions, I would still be living in my pink room at her house- no husband, no kids, and no education.  That's why God gave us parents to make the tough decisions for us.

When she left that day, I cried and hoped she would come back and tell me I didn't have to ever go to school.  Ever. 

I'm just glad I had three tough kids who all started Kindergarten without any tears.  That would have been much harder to deal with than my own first day of school.  I'm happy they were all more brave I was!