Chronosynchronicity

Perhaps those few of you who read this blog religiously realized that I recently changed the name of it. Thirty Minutes of Wonderful never really fit the blog, it was mostly an homage to a quote that I loved from a movie that I still love. Recently, while scrolling through a list of obscure words, I came across this one:

Chronosynchronicity: the presentation of all stages of a person's life in a single piece of art. 

I don't know that I would call a blog "art", but then if these exhibits count as art, why not this as well? At any rate that description spoke to me. When I started this blog it was mostly about my weight loss journey. Which is an ongoing struggle and the one thing most posted about here. But it was also about my family, my kids, my husband, and my extended family. When I began it my mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and my world was in a whirlwind. So much has happened and much of it has never been posted here because it is private, personal information. But I want this blog to continue to be a record, if you will, of all the stages of my life. And so I share another stage with you today.

Yep, that's an empty nest.

On May 30th, while hubby and I were on a camping trip my boys moved out. We knew it was coming, it wasn't unexpected. The camping trip had been planned months ago, the moving out only came within the last month. Both boys had recently found jobs about an hour drive from here. And they were tired of making the long trek to work and back daily. So they had begun to look for an apartment in the last couple of months and started seriously saving to move out.

They found the apartment just a few weeks before our trip and chose to move out that weekend because it was the easiest time for them. They would receive a month's free rent at their new place if they were in it before June 1. And it just worked for them. So when we left for our camping trip, we knew we would come home to an emptier house.

The Moody Crew back in the day.

As hubby and I lay in our bed our first night home we were each quiet, lost in our own thoughts. "Whatcha thinkin' bout?" I asked
"I guess I'm just a little down about the boys, I didn't think it would bother me this much."
We snuggled closer and held each other. It's strange when your kids move out. I have to continuously remind myself that they aren't dead, they've just moved out. They aren't gone, they're just... gone.

I remember arguing with my boys so much when they were home over silly, stupid little things. I miss arguing with them. Don't get me wrong now, I don't want them to stay home forever. I want my kids to move out and start their own lives. I want them to be their own person, making their own decisions. It's just... different. For as long as I can remember I've been a mom. My job has been caring for my kids, and I've slowly been weaning myself off of that while they were here. But it's not just being a mom that I miss. It's the company, the conversations, I even miss the eye rolling and the complaining.

But along with missing them and wishing they were still here is yet another feeling, an anticipation for the new life that is to come. A curious spirit, a wondering. What's next? What will this next chapter of our lives be like? The only thing that I can do now is hope and pray that I taught my children as well as I could. I made mistakes, show me a parent who hasn't. But the one thing my children know is that I love them. I have loved them with all that I am for all of their lives. And I will always love them and be here for them no matter what. So as we all begin this next exciting and terrifying journey, we'll do it together, and separate, and we'll do it with hearts full of love. 

Parenting Lessons I Wish I Had Learned Sooner

My children are grown. There will be no more muddy hand prints on the front door. The time when they would rush up to me and hug me tight, just because, has left. They still hug me, but now it's when they're leaving.  And sometimes, when I think back over our years together, there are some lessons I wish I had learned sooner.

"They grow up so fast."  Every person who has ever had a child has said this.  You never get it till they're almost grown. Then you desperately try to grab those moments. By the time I realized it my children were teenagers, and felt like I was smothering them; I was.  The dishes can pile up, the house may be a wreck, there will be grass to mow and bills to pay, budgets to balance and money to stress over. You will never get these days back.  Let it all go, and go play with your children.

We cuss, smoke, drink, gossip, and call people names.  And we wonder where our children get it from. You can tell them all day long. They are watching you.  Who you are will become a big part of who they will be. Your actions speak louder than your words. Use their scrutiny to become a better person, and you will, in turn, teach your child to be one.

When I grew up you did what your parents said, unquestionably.  And so when my children were younger I had this same stance. You do what I say, when I say it, because I said to do it. If I told my child to sit on the couch, I wanted them to sit in the exact spot I told them to sit in. And sit, don't lie down.  So many ridiculous battles I fought. What difference did it make which spot they were in or if they were sitting or lying down? The simple fact that they did go to the couch was obedience. Living with me at times was like living with the Borg, resistance was futile.  And when it came to questioning me about anything, that was unacceptable.

I wish I had answered the questions, why? what? how? I wish I had taken the time to teach them to ask questions, to seek answers; to learn. I had tried harder to encourage their free spirit and strong wills, rather than stamp them into my cookie cutter molds.

Tidbits - Episode 3

~ The challenge: Well it's going, and that's about all I can say about that. I've screwed up entirely too many times. And I can't decide whether to be disgusted with myself or proud of the fact that I'm still trying to stick to it. I absolutely hate this. I hate craving sugar. It sucks. And it seems like the minute I make it off-limits I feel like I could commit murder for something sweet. I've done this before. I once gave up soda and sweets for 2 weeks. The first week was torture, but after that it was a lot easier, and I felt better. Now I swear it seems like I can't drive by a store without feeling an insane urge to stop and get something. And it seems like the very minute I try and do better my kids decide they gotta have something sweet.  Really?  Sometimes I feel like this is it. I'll never be smaller than I am right now. May as well get used to being a fat woman...

I don't want to be her anymore :( But do I want to put forth the effort to change? 

~ We're going camping!  Aside from our trip to the beach we haven't left the house this summer. And I am so ready to get away again. I absolutely love camping but man do I hate the work that comes with it. Packing all of the various items, cleaning stuff that has been packed away for a year. Just everything that comes with going away for any amount of time. Bleh!  But it will be so worth it when we get there! Happy, happy, happy! :)  

Our camping set up from previous years :) 

~ My naner is staying home a little bit longer.  I'm very happy about this because as much as I try to be supportive of my kids and their desire to be independent I was about to lose it y'all. I mean like put me in one of those jackets where I can hug myself all day and let me sit in a pretty white room with bouncy floor, walls, and ceiling.  Losing mama was hard. Probably the hardest thing I've ever dealt with. Then when Amanda moved out right afterward it felt like someone had jerked the rug out from under my feet. And then Shane was going too. I was trying to be up-beat about it, but I really just felt like I was starting to sink.  I'm glad I have a little more time to deal with it and prepare myself. I know my kids are going to move out. But I am going to love every minute I have them at home with me. 

This is me once the kids are all gone.. I'm telling y'all!

~ Speaking of kids moving out.. bugs.  Oh my little darlin. She's had such a rough time lately. A lot has happened, none of it really her fault, but today I stopped by to see her for a minute and she burst into tears while talking to me. I swear turning Mom-to-the-rescue mode into I'm-here-for-you mode is really freaking hard. When one of my kids is upset I really want to just put my cape on and kick some tail. And for those of you worrying, don't.  She'll be fine. It isn't anything God can't handle and she's a tough gal.  But we all have those moments of weakness. And doesn't it seem like they come most when you're with someone you know cares for you unequivocally? Besides, I still have that cape, and I'm not above using it ;)

And then there was one....

Flickr

On August 24th my Shaner will be moving out. He and a friend of his have found a place and he's ready to spread his wings. And again I am torn. My heart is aching and full of pride at the same time.  Having kids is such an amazing and heart wrenching journey.

When they first burst into your life screaming, peeing, never sleeping little monsters you're both amazed and horrified. You can't believe that this little human being lived inside of you for nine months. You take your little bundle home and settle in for a good rest because you're exhausted from the trial of giving birth. And then they cry. They cry when they're hungry, when they're sleepy. They cry when they want held, when they need changed. They cry over everything. And you're pretty sure you're going to go crazy because it's been two weeks since you brought this little angel/devil home and you're not sure if you're ever going to sleep again. But mixed in with these moments of insanity are also moments of intense joy. Like when you're feeding your baby and it wraps it's tiny hand around your pinky finger.  And you marvel at the tiny fingers, toes, eyes, ears, and mouth.  Or maybe the first time they smile at you and your heart feels like it's going to explode inside your chest. In a single year you'll see such a marvelous transformation. Sleeping through the night for the first time, holding up their head, rolling over, crawling, pulling up, walking, getting teeth, begining to verbalize. So much happens and it goes so quickly. And you look back at the end of that year and can't believe how far they've come.

Then they become a toddler and when they aren't trying to climb to the very top of your house you're sure they're trying to kill themselves. They'll stick their fingers into anything that is open, just because they can. Everything goes into the mouth and you're forever saying, "No," and "Stop that!"  And sometimes you forget that this rambunctious little being is the center of your world. Because you're tired and you're frustrated and you just want a break. And you sit down to cry and little hands touch your face and a tiny voice says, "Why you tryin' mama?" And you smile and say something silly to make them laugh. And you realize how much they've grown in such a short time.

Soon they're prepubescent, which is basically a fancy word for 13 going on 30.  They talk back, they're asserting their independence more. And you're ready to scream. You'll gladly go back to that toddler stage and pull them down off the top of the refrigerator or save them from hanging on to the shower head because at least then you ruled the world. At that point in time you were always right and never wrong. And tensions build. But you watch them become young men and women. You go to ball games and scream like a crazy woman. And though they blush and act like you're the most embarrassing person in the world, you know that secretly they love it. So you scream all the louder. You ride bikes with them, play board games. You take walks and talk about things you couldn't talk about before.

Then they become teenagers. And they can do things for themselves, and for you. And it's a wondrous and terrifying time again. Because having their help is awesome. But now more than ever they don't want to be treated like your child. They're "adults" and don't mind telling you. Often and loudly.   And you struggle for that perfect balance of letting them make their own mistakes and still being the parent that they need you to be whether they realize it or not. And you go on date nights. And they confide in you. And they tell you how much they love you.  And you cherish every moment because you know they'll be gone all too soon.

And then they are. And you have to trust that you did all that you could. That you raised them to the best of your ability with the help and grace of the good Lord. And you just have to believe that they'll be ok. And that's the hardest part. The letting go part. Because how do you just let go of someone that you have nurtured and cared for for 18 years or more. How do you set them loose in the world and trust that they'll be ok?  You pray. And you worry, and call, and stress. And they tell you to "chill out mama".

On loss and love....

On June 2, 2013 my mother went home to be with the Lord.  She fought cancer valiantly and left a hole in my heart and life that will never be filled.

Mama never had an easy life. But she also never complained. When we were little I remember her always being active. She never sat around. She was always cooking, cleaning, gardening, or playing with us.  She loved flowers and she had numerous flower beds that she would tinker around in while we would run around playing.  Once I decided to help her weed one of her flower beds. I was so sure I was helping her out. I went out and spent about 30 minutes pulling every single weed out of her flower garden. Then I went inside and grabbed her hand, dragging her outside to show her my handy work.   When we got out the front door she exclaimed "JULIE! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"
"I pulled the weeds"
"You pulled the flowers!"  And she laughed.
That was always one of our fondest memories. We'd laugh about how I pulled all of the flowers out of her garden and left the weeds. I would tell her that the weeds looked prettier to me. And she'd remind me that she did thank me for trying to help.  And that's the way it was with mama.  Whenever life threw a curve ball at her she laughed and went on. I think it was her faith in Jesus that gave her such strength and inner peace.

Once she was diagnosed with cancer I'm sure she had bad days. I remember calling her one day and asking how she was doing. "I'm fine" She had been crying, but that was always her answer. She was always fine. Even when she wasn't.  And I would playfully tell her "Liar"  And we'd both laugh.  After she was diagnosed my siblings and I went to her house to have a meeting. Sort of an "Oh Lord, what do we do now?" thing.  And I asked her if there was anything that she wanted to do. Any "bucket list" type opportunities or activities that she wanted to get out of the way. "No, " she said, "I've done it all"   I couldn't fathom this at first. How could that be so?  She never lived in the fancy houses that I know she dreamed of. She never had a fancy car. We had talked about traveling the world together. We never got to do that.  But thinking back on it now, all mama ever wanted was time with her kids. And that was enough for her. That was enough to make her content.  As my kids begin to move out I can understand this sentiment.

One month and a week after mama passed away my beautiful baby girl moved out. She had graduated high school and wanted to move in with her boyfriend. She's 17 and I probably could have guilted her into staying home. I could have begged and pleaded, brought up the fact that I just lost mama. And she would have stayed.  But she would have been angry with me. And I don't think it would have made a difference in the long run. Sooner or later she was going to move out and begin her life on her own.  And probably sooner rather than later.  And it would have been just as hard then as it is now.

Yesterday (Wednesday, July 10) we loaded all of Amanda's boxes into my van and I drove her to her boyfriend's house. He lives about a 45 minute drive away and we planned to drop her off when I took my nephew to his therapy, which is about 10 minutes away from her boyfriends house.  I had a week to prepare myself for this, but a year wouldn't have been enough. When she took the last of her boxes into his house I broke down.  I tried really hard not to leave her crying but it was just impossible.

I spent the next couple of hours at therapy, driving, feeding animals, and just generally trying not to think about what had just happened. But when I finally got home and went in my house it was impossible not to think about. Therapy is every Wednesday and most days Amanda went with me.  After the hour ride there, home, and an hour sitting in the waiting room she was always full of energy. The first thing she would do when she came in was start up some music and start dancing in my living room. She'd pester me about working out with her. "You gonna work out with me today mama?" I had a litany of excuses. I was too tired, had too cook dinner, needed to clean house.  I wish I had danced with her more and made excuses less.

So when I came into my now empty house (my boys were both gone to friends for the night) it hit me full force. My baby was gone. She wasn't going to dance around my living room anymore.  She wasn't going to needle me into working out with her or unload the dishwasher while I started dinner. And so I cried.  Thankfully my son saw a post of mine on facebook and called. "You want some company mom?"
 "YES PLEASE!"
He and his girlfriend came and spent the afternoon with me. They left about 10 minutes before my husband came home and he held me while I cried myself to sleep.

This morning I went into her room to check out what she'd left behind.  I saw the fuzzy robe that I had given her, the clutch that we had found that went perfectly with the dress that we bought for the winter formal. The one she never got to attend.  And I kept thinking things like "She'll never get to wear  her fuzzy robe again" and "We just bought her that bed a few months ago so she would sleep better." Suddenly I realized that I was acting as if she were dead. Like she was gone and I would never see her again. And I realized that I never really grieved for mama.  I have been sad and I have cried. But I haven't allowed myself to think of her as gone.  Because if I actually acknowledge that my mother is dead then I have to face the fact that I will never again hug her. I won't playfully chide her about not eating enough.  She won't laugh at my silliness and tell me I worry too much or I work too hard.

And Amanda moving suddenly made all of this clear to me. I was grieving her as if she had died because I couldn't bring myself to admit that mama had. I couldn't handle the thought that my mama was gone and she wasn't coming back. Mandy moving is hard, I miss her fiercely. But I can go visit her whenever I want. I can call her every day. She's still here. She's just not living with me anymore.  My mama is gone. I'll never again be able to call her and gripe about my husband, my children, or that woman in the grocery store who was rude to me.  I can't go sit in her living room and talk to her about everything and nothing at the same time. I won't hear her laugh over some silly joke I made that no one else found funny.  We won't be able to watch movies together and cry. And we'll never travel the world. And it hurts.  It hurts to the very core of my being. And I don't say anything because I don't want all of the looks of sympathy. I don't want people calling me all the time to check on me. I just want to grieve. I want to miss my mama and cry and I want it to be ok for me to do that. Because when people call to check on me, then I feel like I'm pitying myself.  I feel like I need to get over myself and my need to grieve. Lots of people have lost their parents. I'm not the first, I won't be the last. Why should I carry on so?  But when people leave me to it I can cry. I'm not depressed. I'm not wallowing in it. I am missing my mama.

Mama said there'd be days like this...

Life has been so hectic lately and I can not for the life of me figure out why.  I'm feeling very stressed, anxious, and uncomfortable when I thought that at this point I would be feeling better. About a month ago I took my daughter to get her license. Now before I took her my days looked a little like this:

Mon/Tues/Thurs	Wed/Fri/Sat/Sun
Babysitting/dance	Babysitting/work

So I babysit my nephews Monday - Friday and sometimes on Saturdays. I took Bugs (my daughter) to dance 3 days a week and to work the rest of the days. There was never a dull moment and I was pooped. It isn't like I was doing that much. It's just that in all the running it was hard to get dinner cooked and housework finished. My husband works second shift which means he's asleep in the mornings. Our house is terrible for insulating sounds. You can hear pretty much everything from every room.  So in the mornings I spent time playing with Lolo and doing as little housework as possible so as not do disturb hubby.  He left the house at 2pm which is when my running started. Needless to say it was a pain to try and get everything done.

Well since my daughter has her license my running has been all but cut out. I still take the kids to and from school, and I grocery shop on Thursdays.  Aside from that I am pretty much a homebody. And yet I still feel like I have no time to do anything.  I spend my afternoons being absolutely lazy to the point that I am rushing to clean my house at the last minute before I head to bed. I figured once she was driving our meal times would get back to a civilized hour. But so far I end up cooking around 6pm which means we're eating closer to 7.  

I have no reason for this except laziness. At first I told myself that I was just so burnt out from the constant going that I needed a few days to just unwind. It was no big deal. And it wouldn't have been if it had been a few days, but it's been a few weeks. And here I sit doing nothing still. My housework is getting done, but not to the standard that I would like it to. And I spend way too much time sitting on my tucus instead of doing something productive. Like excercising. It's great to make all these fine goals, but what good are they if you never do anything with them?  I need to get motivated again.  Now if I could only figure out how~ 

Teenagers~

I have this plaque hanging above my recliner.  I don't think I could find a truer saying if I looked for the rest of my days.

My children are now 20, 19, and 17 years old. And let me tell you, they know everything. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not being sarcastic (ok maybe I am a little).  I'm straight up telling you, there is no subject that you can bring up that one or all of them is not an expert on.



My 20-year-old has a difficult time saving money. And that is putting it lightly. He is living at home still and works around 30 hours a week. I'm ok with this. We're going to be going on what will probably be our last family vacation soon and he's waiting till after it to start applying for a position in law enforcement.  All of this is fine with me. What is not fine with me is that the child can not save money!  I swear if he gets a dime it burns a hole in his pocket.  He lives paycheck to paycheck and he has no bills! Really?  How hard is it to save money when the only thing you pay for is your cell phone?  Apparently very hard. There are just so many games he wants!  And of course he has no bills, so he can afford them. I can't seem to get him to understand that he needs to be saving towards the day that he will have bills.

My 19-year-old is a smart mouth. I think I made him this way with my smart-alec remarks over the years. But lord is it coming back to bite me in the butt now!   I'm a firm believer in the fact that there is a time and place for everything, including sarcasm. But he just hasn't learned that the time isn't all the time.  There are moments when his quips crack me up, and moments when I would gladly throttle him.

My 17-year-old is probably the worst at any given time. She is our only little girl, and she is fond of saying that she is my "mini-me". I'd like to deny it but if you spend more than 30 minutes with the two of us you'll think so too.  We often say the same thing at the same time. We will react the same way to any given situation. Which sounds all fun and cool, but seriously would you want to put up with yourself as a teenager? I feel so bad for my mama and daddy now. I know the Hell they went through, because I am living it daily. My little angel has informed me about 75 times over the course of the last two years that she will be moving out as soon as she graduates high school. Now how she is going to accomplish this with no money is still a puzzle. She's going to "save money".   She saves every bit as well as her 20-year-old brother.  And every time I try to give her advice she says "I know mama.  17-year-old here, I'm grown up now, you don't have to tell me"

That is so frustrating, let me tell you.  I've given up though, I would do better to have a conversation with a brick wall.  When she's 30 we'll discuss this again. Somewhere around there is where I figure I'll start being right again.  But you know what? Even though they drive me nuts, I wouldn't trade one minute with them for anything else in the world. The time is quickly approaching that they will be out on their own. In those moments when they are drivng me nuts I remind myself that it won't be like this for long.  One day my house will be empty and quiet and I will miss all the little arguments that we had. And all the laughs.  I'll probably have to go annoy them at their homes then. ;)