So last year I entered the Real Simple Essay and didn't win. I really enjoyed the experience though because that was the time that I decided to start writing. So I decided to write for the Essay again, this time I am revising it more than once, lol. The question for the essay was 'When did you know the true meaning of love.' I think I have a good chance b/c I doubt many other people have thought of this topic (ha! That's what I said about 'Still Alice') Anyway, so this is my essay please feel free to give me feed back and let me know if there anything I should change....and also, to my family members; this honestly is just my point of view it wasn't written to be hurtful or cause problems so please take it for the story that it is...
Real Simple Essay 2011
The parent-child relationship is a unique bond and so individually special that no words can truly sum them all into one description. Many Americans are faced with the day when they are no longer the child in that relationship but the parent; not only to their own children but to their parents as well. My mom is one of those people. I cannot tell you the day or time that it happened but she is now the parent to my 85 year old Grandpa and her co-parent is my 87 year old Grandma.
My grandparents have been married for 65 years, have 6 children, 10 grandchildren, and 8 great-grandchildren. They are devote Christians, hard workers, and all around 'good people'. They are that adorable couple you see walking hand in hand down the sidewalk and you smile to yourself because of their drastic difference in height. He stand at 6/4 and she (rounding up) comes in at 4'11. They would be prime candidates to be the picture perfect Hallmark card for love, faith, and friendship.
They moved from small town Florida some years ago to Northern Indiana for the very reason to be close to family, just in case they needed help in the years to come. My mom is number four out of six kids, and one of the three that live in the same town as my grandparents. She is the one that Grandma came to when she started noticing a difference in Grandpa. The signs were small and the changes barely noticeable; Grandpa was forgetting things. He didn't remember if he had brushed his teeth, or how to tie his shoes; he couldn't even remember what he had for breakfast or if he even had breakfast. My grandma started taking care of him, for better or worse and in sickness and in health. She would remind him to brush his teeth and show him how if he couldn't remember. She would even dress him in the mornings, but it was becoming too much. She was taking care of a man twice her size, it was exhausting. Someone had to step in and help; and that someone was my mom.
The tasks started off small; running my grandma to the grocery store, the library, to their little country Mennonite church in the corn field. She would take her out to lunch and give her a break from the stress if not but for a few hours. This was fine to do until one day they came home to find Grandpa with a bruise and no memory as to how he got it. She called siblings to see if he could go to their house while Grandma was out. Mom got answers like 'I'll have to check my calender' or 'I don't have time'. The answer she got, for the most part, was that she was on her own.
The day I think it set in, that Grandpa was digressing, for most of the family was when Mom had to go over to their house and bandage his leg. He had skin missing and caused himself to bleed because 'The band-aid wouldn't come off' - there was no band-aid. Mom called her siblings that lived in other states, miles away from the reality to let them know what was happening to their father. Denial seemed to be the road taken for those not there instead of the road home to help out where help was needed most.
Grandpa has good and bad days, we all do. The bad days are when he has a hard time remembering what year it is, how many children he has or how long he has been married to his bride. The sad part is that he knows he is fading, he will get frustrated with himself and feel like he is a burden more than the 'head of house' let alone a member of the family. The good days, well they are the ones we cherish. He will look at my grandma and wink causing her to blush. We'll ask him if that was something he used to do when they were dating. He'll reply 'I am just so lucky to be married to such a pretty lady.' These are the moments that prove even though his memory may be fading, his love for her is not.
Things are starting to worsen. Grandma is falling or finding herself on the ground and not knowing how she got there. She is tired and Mom is worrying more. She and my uncle have visited homes in the area, searching for that one place they would be confident to know their parents are getting the same love and care they would provide. These visits end in tears of frustration and added stress. My mother's 'days off' are never truly off. Of course she wishes there were times where she could do nothing and just be but as she has told me on many occasions 'When the day comes where I will not have to take care of them will be the day I wish I could.'
You see Mom isn't just doing this because she has to but because she wants to. It is her privilege to provide them with the same loving care that they gave to her as she was growing up. I feel that even though her siblings may not be helping out as much as they should; she is gaining something they are missing out on - unconditional love. The love that was there to kiss away the 'boo-boos' and 'ouchies' The love that kept them safe and out of a nursing home for as long as possible. The love that wiped away Grandma's tears as she watched her one and only slip away. The most powerful kind of love that showed honor, respect, and dedication to the ones that brought her into the world. She will not have to wish for more days or regret the phone calls never made. She will not have a 'would have, could have, should have' moment, because she did.
This story about my mom and grandparent's parent-child relationship is dedicated to those who are out there being the best parents they know how to be, to their parents. It is to honor those who honor their parents and the lessons of love they provided them growing up. This story is to thank those who love unconditionally.
Thank you for taking care of generations past and for teaching generations of the future what love truly means.
8.7.11
Love is a Battlefield
The Beatles lied. So did Disney. 'All you need is love' No, all you need is armor and enough ammo to make sure you can survive this crazy thing called marriage. Love is war. We start relationships showing the other person or nation our best qualities and to be honest when we're just getting to know someone who we find interesting, intriguing, and totally worth our time we do not want to see their faults. At least not just yet; we hope that as we grow closer to signing a peace treaty that those 'Top Secret' files will emerge and there will be no secrets. We all have secrets and most of us do not share these secrets, even to the ones we're closest to. This can cause problems, break trusts, and start a war.
War is a dreadful awful thing, and no I'm not talking about the war that is overseas, I'm talking about the war that is raging on in most households across the country. We wake up wondering it today will be the day the enemy surrenders or if we will see that white flag be raised on our side of the battle front. No one wants to surrender, their nation is right, their views, options, ideas, future goals are the only things that matter. For many couples this thinking is ok; especially if their spouse or ally has the same thinking. Unfortunately for many marriages this is not the case. They walked into their homes at night with their ammo strapped on their shoulder, dressed in camo to, hopefully, blend into the surrounding enough that the enemy will not be able to find them and attack. These little battles may not seem like much, but if they are not fought over (talked over) then they will just led to a much bigger and bloodier war.
The war rages on.
For most allying nations secrets can be a damning thing. They keep them locked away in top secret files and with heavily guarded rooms. These secrets are the atomic bombs, when an allying nation finds the secrets, bombs go off, the treaty is broken and HW2 (Household War 2) is on. In some cases a cold war can occur. Nations begin to plot, stockpiling weapons all while keeping a watchful eye on the enemy to make sure they are not doing the same. Cold wars are almost worse; they appear to be friends who are 'trying' to work out their problems but in most cases they are talking with other nations about the downfall that is soon to come.
In times like this it would be suggested to go and speak with the United Nations. Read reports of other countries that went through the same things as you are going through. We study history so we can help prevent it from happening again and yet it continues to happen again and again. The same fight is being fought over and over. Money, drugs, religion, and lies all reasons as to why the war rages on.
My war is raging on.
I walked into the battle field without cover and was soon being fired upon with bullets that I could not dodge. I was hit with hurtful words, hurt feelings and broken promises. Instead of falling back I stood my ground and fired back; words I would regret, things I didn't mean. The heat of war does not come from bullets but from the tears that fall. I carried my body, bloody and battered back to my camp. I speak with the generals and others in charge as to what the next plan of action should be. Surrender? Night Attack? Blitz? I am tired and feel like I age five years after every battle. I am one of the lucky ones, I have survived yet another fight. Some of the unlucky ones include Trust, Faith, Compassion, and Self Esteem. They didn't even see it coming. How can I forget them now that they are gone? I must fight for them, for their memory in hopes that will be enough to end the awfulness.
We spend our lives searching for 'the one'. We find them, marry them and then what? We marry our best friends, the person we want to share our lives promising our best and then only showing them our worst. Why is it that we feel we can be our worst around the ones that we love the most? Is it because we know they will love us no matter what? Instead of looking into the future together we stand there head to head fighting for what we want for ourselves. What happened to being on the same side, same team?
I will fight this war, only because I know that what is waiting at the end, the finish is worth the fight. Yes we come out with battle scars, wounds that will take time to heal; but they are worth it when you decided, together as allying nations, to sign a treaty of peace and work on making it work! There will be a day when the war is over. I hope that day brings peace by bringing the two nations together and not parting for good. I do say though, how many lives have to be lost in a war before people realize it is such a waste. There is a time when you have to say enough is enough. No one ever wins the war of 'love' but you can win together. I hope that couples out there realize when they are battling for a good ending and when they are not. I want them to know the difference between a war that can be won and one that can not. When you realize it is a war that can not be won; put your weapon down and raise your white flag. You will find peace because the war is over.
War is a dreadful awful thing, and no I'm not talking about the war that is overseas, I'm talking about the war that is raging on in most households across the country. We wake up wondering it today will be the day the enemy surrenders or if we will see that white flag be raised on our side of the battle front. No one wants to surrender, their nation is right, their views, options, ideas, future goals are the only things that matter. For many couples this thinking is ok; especially if their spouse or ally has the same thinking. Unfortunately for many marriages this is not the case. They walked into their homes at night with their ammo strapped on their shoulder, dressed in camo to, hopefully, blend into the surrounding enough that the enemy will not be able to find them and attack. These little battles may not seem like much, but if they are not fought over (talked over) then they will just led to a much bigger and bloodier war.
The war rages on.
For most allying nations secrets can be a damning thing. They keep them locked away in top secret files and with heavily guarded rooms. These secrets are the atomic bombs, when an allying nation finds the secrets, bombs go off, the treaty is broken and HW2 (Household War 2) is on. In some cases a cold war can occur. Nations begin to plot, stockpiling weapons all while keeping a watchful eye on the enemy to make sure they are not doing the same. Cold wars are almost worse; they appear to be friends who are 'trying' to work out their problems but in most cases they are talking with other nations about the downfall that is soon to come.
In times like this it would be suggested to go and speak with the United Nations. Read reports of other countries that went through the same things as you are going through. We study history so we can help prevent it from happening again and yet it continues to happen again and again. The same fight is being fought over and over. Money, drugs, religion, and lies all reasons as to why the war rages on.
My war is raging on.
I walked into the battle field without cover and was soon being fired upon with bullets that I could not dodge. I was hit with hurtful words, hurt feelings and broken promises. Instead of falling back I stood my ground and fired back; words I would regret, things I didn't mean. The heat of war does not come from bullets but from the tears that fall. I carried my body, bloody and battered back to my camp. I speak with the generals and others in charge as to what the next plan of action should be. Surrender? Night Attack? Blitz? I am tired and feel like I age five years after every battle. I am one of the lucky ones, I have survived yet another fight. Some of the unlucky ones include Trust, Faith, Compassion, and Self Esteem. They didn't even see it coming. How can I forget them now that they are gone? I must fight for them, for their memory in hopes that will be enough to end the awfulness.
We spend our lives searching for 'the one'. We find them, marry them and then what? We marry our best friends, the person we want to share our lives promising our best and then only showing them our worst. Why is it that we feel we can be our worst around the ones that we love the most? Is it because we know they will love us no matter what? Instead of looking into the future together we stand there head to head fighting for what we want for ourselves. What happened to being on the same side, same team?
I will fight this war, only because I know that what is waiting at the end, the finish is worth the fight. Yes we come out with battle scars, wounds that will take time to heal; but they are worth it when you decided, together as allying nations, to sign a treaty of peace and work on making it work! There will be a day when the war is over. I hope that day brings peace by bringing the two nations together and not parting for good. I do say though, how many lives have to be lost in a war before people realize it is such a waste. There is a time when you have to say enough is enough. No one ever wins the war of 'love' but you can win together. I hope that couples out there realize when they are battling for a good ending and when they are not. I want them to know the difference between a war that can be won and one that can not. When you realize it is a war that can not be won; put your weapon down and raise your white flag. You will find peace because the war is over.
4.7.11
God's Hugs
God hugged me today. It was awesome and just what I needed at the time. I started calling these moments 'hugs' in November 2005. I was in a deep depression and alone in my college studio apartment, feeling so far away from God, and not knowing what do with my life. I was sobbing and literally went down to my knees and prayed 'God I am so alone, I need You right now. I need to feel that You are with me. Please let me know I am not alone.' Within seconds of finishing my prayer I felt as though I was getting the biggest bear hug I've ever had; which of course made me cry harder because God was with me and let me know He was there for me. From that moment on I recommitted my life to God and began a new look on life and how God interacts with me daily.
Many people think I am silly when I talk about my 'God hugs' I on the other hand feel lucky to notice them; I think many people go throughout their day and do not even notice when God is speaking to them or letting them know He is there. I view beautiful days as a sign from God, birds chirping, people calling to say hi when you need it the most. I use to bar tend in downtown Chicago and I honestly believe my 'big' tips were coming from God. I know that when you ask you shall receive; when I was younger if I actually remembered to pray I was selfish with them . I would be broad in my prayers for my family, the world and so on. I honestly thought that was enough. After my hug in 2005 I viewed the world differently. I now ask, in my prayers, to be a better Christian FOR God. This would mean if I woke up having a bad day and didn't want to go to work I would pray 'Lord, I pray that I work for YOU today, I want everything I do today at work to be for you.' This would not only impact the way I worked but by the end of the day I would realize my day had actually turned out pretty well. It makes me smile when I realize asking God to be a better Christian for Him actually makes me feel better about life and the way I live it.
I feel many of my hugs come when I am running late and can not find my keys or the other shoe, and so on. I will say a quick prayer 'Lord I could really use some help finding (insert what I lost)' sometimes I will find it right away and other times I will find it in a day or two which is ok with me because I view Him still helping me find it! I believe that these are moments when God lets me know that even though there are bigger problems in the world, billions praying to him at the same time; He's still there for me and listening. I do not pray in a way that tests God. I know He is there; I do not need Him to prove it. I just want to have conversations with Him. I hope He enjoys them as much as I do and I think He does because when we talk, I feel His love.
God loves us and wants us to talk to Him. I do just that, I don't save my prayers for the end or beginning of my days. Sometimes my prayers are short, sweet and to the point! Of course there are times in our faith where God will distance Himself, we all go through them. I fail these moments horribly. I would say most of the time I do not realize how far I have gone off path or how long it's been since I've had an intimate conversation with the Lord until I am so far into the forest that it is completely dark and I do not know which way to go to get back onto my path. I end up getting depressed and praying to God for comfort again. I know these are moments where I can grow as a stronger Christian and honestly I really need to remember these moments when they are occurring!
I recall a moment when I was at another low. I had been praying to God for days and felt alone. I had just adopted two cats for our local shelter so we were still in the early stages of getting to know each other. My grandma had just died, I was getting married in two weeks and starting to have cold feet, I didn't feel as though I could talk to my family or friends. To put it bluntly I was feeling very sorry for myself. Again I was sobbing and praying to God to comfort me. My cat, Jerry, who had become my therapist in the few short weeks he was with me was laying on my chest. I was alone in bed crying so hard that my pillow case was drenched. I was calling out to God over and over when Jerry meowed, turned and cradled my face between his front paws. I sobbed uncontrollably. God gave me a hug through Jerry. At that moment I not only knew God loved me but my cat did as well. He knew I was hurting and was comforting me. God. Is. Amazing.
I know that I will have lows and highs throughout my life but I also know God loves me; He is there for me and He will never give me more than I can handle in life. Sometimes, I wonder how strong He thinks I am! I pray daily that God helps me be childlike in my faith and I feel as though my 'hugs' are very childlike. People need to stop and realize the answer is simple. Life is simple. Love God. Live for God. Let God.
Try to remember the simplicity of God's love for you, for all of us. If you're having a bad day look to the positive; there's God. He's talking to you, you just have to listen. Try to have a conversation with Him everyday; even if it's to say 'Love ya!' I'm pretty sure He loves those messages.
Many people think I am silly when I talk about my 'God hugs' I on the other hand feel lucky to notice them; I think many people go throughout their day and do not even notice when God is speaking to them or letting them know He is there. I view beautiful days as a sign from God, birds chirping, people calling to say hi when you need it the most. I use to bar tend in downtown Chicago and I honestly believe my 'big' tips were coming from God. I know that when you ask you shall receive; when I was younger if I actually remembered to pray I was selfish with them . I would be broad in my prayers for my family, the world and so on. I honestly thought that was enough. After my hug in 2005 I viewed the world differently. I now ask, in my prayers, to be a better Christian FOR God. This would mean if I woke up having a bad day and didn't want to go to work I would pray 'Lord, I pray that I work for YOU today, I want everything I do today at work to be for you.' This would not only impact the way I worked but by the end of the day I would realize my day had actually turned out pretty well. It makes me smile when I realize asking God to be a better Christian for Him actually makes me feel better about life and the way I live it.
I feel many of my hugs come when I am running late and can not find my keys or the other shoe, and so on. I will say a quick prayer 'Lord I could really use some help finding (insert what I lost)' sometimes I will find it right away and other times I will find it in a day or two which is ok with me because I view Him still helping me find it! I believe that these are moments when God lets me know that even though there are bigger problems in the world, billions praying to him at the same time; He's still there for me and listening. I do not pray in a way that tests God. I know He is there; I do not need Him to prove it. I just want to have conversations with Him. I hope He enjoys them as much as I do and I think He does because when we talk, I feel His love.
God loves us and wants us to talk to Him. I do just that, I don't save my prayers for the end or beginning of my days. Sometimes my prayers are short, sweet and to the point! Of course there are times in our faith where God will distance Himself, we all go through them. I fail these moments horribly. I would say most of the time I do not realize how far I have gone off path or how long it's been since I've had an intimate conversation with the Lord until I am so far into the forest that it is completely dark and I do not know which way to go to get back onto my path. I end up getting depressed and praying to God for comfort again. I know these are moments where I can grow as a stronger Christian and honestly I really need to remember these moments when they are occurring!
I recall a moment when I was at another low. I had been praying to God for days and felt alone. I had just adopted two cats for our local shelter so we were still in the early stages of getting to know each other. My grandma had just died, I was getting married in two weeks and starting to have cold feet, I didn't feel as though I could talk to my family or friends. To put it bluntly I was feeling very sorry for myself. Again I was sobbing and praying to God to comfort me. My cat, Jerry, who had become my therapist in the few short weeks he was with me was laying on my chest. I was alone in bed crying so hard that my pillow case was drenched. I was calling out to God over and over when Jerry meowed, turned and cradled my face between his front paws. I sobbed uncontrollably. God gave me a hug through Jerry. At that moment I not only knew God loved me but my cat did as well. He knew I was hurting and was comforting me. God. Is. Amazing.
I know that I will have lows and highs throughout my life but I also know God loves me; He is there for me and He will never give me more than I can handle in life. Sometimes, I wonder how strong He thinks I am! I pray daily that God helps me be childlike in my faith and I feel as though my 'hugs' are very childlike. People need to stop and realize the answer is simple. Life is simple. Love God. Live for God. Let God.
Try to remember the simplicity of God's love for you, for all of us. If you're having a bad day look to the positive; there's God. He's talking to you, you just have to listen. Try to have a conversation with Him everyday; even if it's to say 'Love ya!' I'm pretty sure He loves those messages.
24.6.11
Snail Mail
So this past week I was able to spend some time with my mom's side of the family. My uncle is back from Afgan (don't know how to spell the rest:) and my cousin just graduated high school. I don't get to see my other aunt and uncle that much either so when family comes to town it's a good chance to see everyone. I was lucky enough to have 5 days off before my new job started so I didn't need to take any time off. I really enjoyed the time with them. I look back at my teens and childhood and have to shake my head. I did not appreciate the time I had with them (then again who does at that age?) I am just glad I came to this realization now and not when it was too late...anyway! I decided to let my Grandma know how I felt about this past week so I thought I would share the letter I am sending her in the mail on a very pretty card I must add...I've decided not to put it in the book b/c this is just a preview of the OTHER letter I'm planning on writing her, plus everyone loves getting mail; so why wait until her birthday to say these things??
Dear Grandma,
I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed spending time with you and Grandpa this past week. It was wonderful to look at the old pictures with you and learn more about our family. I really enjoyed seeing you and Grandpa around my age (sometimes it is hard to image you both at that age so the pictures helped!) I wish God gave people the knowledge of how important family truly is at a much younger age, but I guess I should be thankful it hit me now at least. I know others who are old and 'wiser' who still do not realize what they are missing out on...
Thank you for being such a wonderful grandma, I look back on my life and see your influence and have to smile. I am very lucky to be able to call you mine. I love you both so much and am so blessed to be able to call you family.
Love,
Emily
Seriously people, love your family. I don't care how much they drive you nuts or how crazy you may think they are..b/c when they're gone you are going to miss it.
Dear Grandma,
I just wanted to let you know that I really enjoyed spending time with you and Grandpa this past week. It was wonderful to look at the old pictures with you and learn more about our family. I really enjoyed seeing you and Grandpa around my age (sometimes it is hard to image you both at that age so the pictures helped!) I wish God gave people the knowledge of how important family truly is at a much younger age, but I guess I should be thankful it hit me now at least. I know others who are old and 'wiser' who still do not realize what they are missing out on...
Thank you for being such a wonderful grandma, I look back on my life and see your influence and have to smile. I am very lucky to be able to call you mine. I love you both so much and am so blessed to be able to call you family.
Love,
Emily
Seriously people, love your family. I don't care how much they drive you nuts or how crazy you may think they are..b/c when they're gone you are going to miss it.
16.6.11
Grandma Story #2 - The Farmer
I come from a long line of farmers, well, on one side of my family anyway. My mom grew up on a farm, she had horses, fields to play in, and I'm pretty sure she knows how to milk a cow. She had every little city girl's dream of what owning a pony would be like. I guess I would call myself a city girl, I mean nothing like NYC or Chicago. I didn't know how to hail a cab, use public transportation, or encounter bums daily growing up. On the other hand I didn't know how to milk a cow, saddle a horse, or de-feather a chicken so by all means I wasn't your typical small town girl either. I am just your average not-so-small-or-big-city girl.
I grew up in Indiana; when people hear this they automatically picture me in overalls and in a cornfield. This not only makes me laugh but could be nothing further from the truth. I lived in a subdivision, had air conditioning and no one in my family was my brother and cousin at the same time. If you asked me growing up I would have told you I was a small town girl, you ask my mom, and she'd tell you I was a city girl. I do not know why but this bothered me to no end. I was out to prove to her that I was a small town girl!
This story is about the day I found out Mom was right. (You have no idea how hard that was to type!) I guess it should have been a sign to myself that she might be right when I actually considered mowing the yard to be a type of 'farming'. I mean it's a little like plowing a field right? I was headed over to my grandparents house to mow their yard for them. My grandma was the one that use to do the mowing but the task had just become too tiring in her old age (no offense grandma) She stands at maybe 4'll and has more of a waddle than walk thanks to a hip surgery (I think it is absolutely adorable and is something that comes to mind when I think of her)
Anyway! She greeted me at the door and led me out back to the shed where the mower was. Before you start judging my chore list as child, yes, I did mow my parents yard but they had a push mower, my grandparents had a riding mower. In my mind what was titled a chore in my home seemed to be a piece of cake at grandma's. She said she would get the mower out for me and then show me how to use it. She disappeared and came out with, what I think, was the original first riding lawnmower. Ok maybe it wasn't that old but it wasn't the John Deer that I was expecting to see either. She killed the motor and showed me the shift stick thing, the gas petal and what everything did. After she was done she wanted to know if I had any questions. Only one grandma, when did you pick up Chinese as your second language because I didn't understand a word of what you were talking about. I smiled and shook my head yes, I mean if my 82 year old grandmother can handle this thing I'm pretty sure I can figure it out. In my mind it was like a car with a blade and no radio.
I hopped on and turned the key. Nothing. Grandma reminds me to do something with the stick thing and the break. I do it and VAROOM! I give her a thumbs up and a big I-totally-know-what-I'm-doing smile. The fear in her eyes says it all but I just assume her allergies are bothering her. I decide to head to the front yard because there are less trees and I can practice before I get to the backyard which is full of twists and turns, four trees, their garden, and the shed. It was like the Mowing Olympics if you asked me!
As I'm riding along I decide to call my mower 'Bessy' I mean she is like a trusty stead in the field so why not give her a name that honors that. Bessy has a little kick to her, this ol' girl can move! We're flying up and down the yard and I'm thankful that I decided to wear an old t-shirt and shorts because to steer Bessy took a lot of muscle and I could feel the sweat drip down my forehead as we made our way back toward the house. I start to daydream a little about the sweet tea and cookies that will be waiting for me at the end of my hard day in the field. I can picture Grandma ringing a dinner bell to let me know it's ready (in reality she could just waved me in from the kitchen window)
Just as I think 'There's nothing to this farming thing, it must be in my blood' I feel something in my shirt. I sit erect, Bessy can sense my fear and gives a little shudder. It's ok girl, I pat her on the head (steering wheel) it's just sweat, this summer sun is obviously getting to me next time I'll have to remember my straw hat. We turn and head back to the house and there it is again. Ok now I know it isn't sweat because I can feel it's legs. THERE IS A BUG IN MY SHIRT!!! Get it off! Get it off!!! GET IT OFF! I panic and steer Bessy this way and that leaving crooked mowing lines in my wake. Somewhere in the craziness my shirt flies off (no worries, the story is still PG I have a sports bra on thank you very much) I hit the stick thingy and we take off towards the house. There are a row of bushes and plants that my grandparents have worked hours on end right in my path and I can't seem to find the brake! Woo girl, WOO GIRL! Oh yeah, Bessy isn't really a horse and I'm not really a farmer! What the heck am I doing? We crash into the bush and I can hear the blade hack away at it (it didn't have a chance) Grandma comes flying out of the house with a look I've never seen before from her (so THAT'S where my mom got it) She comes up to Bessy and I, grabs the keys and kills the engine. I sit there for a second dazed and confused as to what just happened.
I look up to see my Grandma standing there looking at me like I'm crazy (at this point she might be right though) Why didn't you hit the brake, or kill the engine, or at least bring up the blade? Wait, what? I didn't even know I could bring the blade up, what does that even mean!? Thankfully for me, my Grandma is a lady and does not lay into me with a string of profanity that I probably deserve. I pulled Bessy from the bush, poor little thing barely has any limbs anymore. Thinking I would just put the mower back in the shed and wait until one of my male, more farmer like, cousins could come and mow for them I was surprised when Grandma told me to finish. Is she nuts? I was thrown from my horse, Bessy can sense my fear and now doesn't trust me as her rider.
I reminded myself I was here to prove a point to my own mother and if I gave up now I would be proving her right (I wish I would have known it shouldn't have mattered because by running over the bush I had already proved her right!) I picked up my shirt, inspecting every inch for the bug that caused this horrible scene in the first place. I couldn't find him, I'm sure he was already in the next pasture over. Thankfully the rest of my 'plowing' went without incident.
I was still invited in for sweet tea and cookies at the end of my day. I was covered in sweat, grass and dirt. I may have looked like a farmer but that's as close to one as I would ever be. I was embarrassed and defeated. That little bug with the six legs proved my mom was right, I am a city girl. I don't like the outdoors, I still freak out when I think a bug is touching me and I wouldn't be caught dead in overalls. I am pretty sure that 'farming gene' skipped my generation and that is ok with me becuase my 'farming' days are over!
I grew up in Indiana; when people hear this they automatically picture me in overalls and in a cornfield. This not only makes me laugh but could be nothing further from the truth. I lived in a subdivision, had air conditioning and no one in my family was my brother and cousin at the same time. If you asked me growing up I would have told you I was a small town girl, you ask my mom, and she'd tell you I was a city girl. I do not know why but this bothered me to no end. I was out to prove to her that I was a small town girl!
This story is about the day I found out Mom was right. (You have no idea how hard that was to type!) I guess it should have been a sign to myself that she might be right when I actually considered mowing the yard to be a type of 'farming'. I mean it's a little like plowing a field right? I was headed over to my grandparents house to mow their yard for them. My grandma was the one that use to do the mowing but the task had just become too tiring in her old age (no offense grandma) She stands at maybe 4'll and has more of a waddle than walk thanks to a hip surgery (I think it is absolutely adorable and is something that comes to mind when I think of her)
Anyway! She greeted me at the door and led me out back to the shed where the mower was. Before you start judging my chore list as child, yes, I did mow my parents yard but they had a push mower, my grandparents had a riding mower. In my mind what was titled a chore in my home seemed to be a piece of cake at grandma's. She said she would get the mower out for me and then show me how to use it. She disappeared and came out with, what I think, was the original first riding lawnmower. Ok maybe it wasn't that old but it wasn't the John Deer that I was expecting to see either. She killed the motor and showed me the shift stick thing, the gas petal and what everything did. After she was done she wanted to know if I had any questions. Only one grandma, when did you pick up Chinese as your second language because I didn't understand a word of what you were talking about. I smiled and shook my head yes, I mean if my 82 year old grandmother can handle this thing I'm pretty sure I can figure it out. In my mind it was like a car with a blade and no radio.
I hopped on and turned the key. Nothing. Grandma reminds me to do something with the stick thing and the break. I do it and VAROOM! I give her a thumbs up and a big I-totally-know-what-I'm-doing smile. The fear in her eyes says it all but I just assume her allergies are bothering her. I decide to head to the front yard because there are less trees and I can practice before I get to the backyard which is full of twists and turns, four trees, their garden, and the shed. It was like the Mowing Olympics if you asked me!
As I'm riding along I decide to call my mower 'Bessy' I mean she is like a trusty stead in the field so why not give her a name that honors that. Bessy has a little kick to her, this ol' girl can move! We're flying up and down the yard and I'm thankful that I decided to wear an old t-shirt and shorts because to steer Bessy took a lot of muscle and I could feel the sweat drip down my forehead as we made our way back toward the house. I start to daydream a little about the sweet tea and cookies that will be waiting for me at the end of my hard day in the field. I can picture Grandma ringing a dinner bell to let me know it's ready (in reality she could just waved me in from the kitchen window)
Just as I think 'There's nothing to this farming thing, it must be in my blood' I feel something in my shirt. I sit erect, Bessy can sense my fear and gives a little shudder. It's ok girl, I pat her on the head (steering wheel) it's just sweat, this summer sun is obviously getting to me next time I'll have to remember my straw hat. We turn and head back to the house and there it is again. Ok now I know it isn't sweat because I can feel it's legs. THERE IS A BUG IN MY SHIRT!!! Get it off! Get it off!!! GET IT OFF! I panic and steer Bessy this way and that leaving crooked mowing lines in my wake. Somewhere in the craziness my shirt flies off (no worries, the story is still PG I have a sports bra on thank you very much) I hit the stick thingy and we take off towards the house. There are a row of bushes and plants that my grandparents have worked hours on end right in my path and I can't seem to find the brake! Woo girl, WOO GIRL! Oh yeah, Bessy isn't really a horse and I'm not really a farmer! What the heck am I doing? We crash into the bush and I can hear the blade hack away at it (it didn't have a chance) Grandma comes flying out of the house with a look I've never seen before from her (so THAT'S where my mom got it) She comes up to Bessy and I, grabs the keys and kills the engine. I sit there for a second dazed and confused as to what just happened.
I look up to see my Grandma standing there looking at me like I'm crazy (at this point she might be right though) Why didn't you hit the brake, or kill the engine, or at least bring up the blade? Wait, what? I didn't even know I could bring the blade up, what does that even mean!? Thankfully for me, my Grandma is a lady and does not lay into me with a string of profanity that I probably deserve. I pulled Bessy from the bush, poor little thing barely has any limbs anymore. Thinking I would just put the mower back in the shed and wait until one of my male, more farmer like, cousins could come and mow for them I was surprised when Grandma told me to finish. Is she nuts? I was thrown from my horse, Bessy can sense my fear and now doesn't trust me as her rider.
I reminded myself I was here to prove a point to my own mother and if I gave up now I would be proving her right (I wish I would have known it shouldn't have mattered because by running over the bush I had already proved her right!) I picked up my shirt, inspecting every inch for the bug that caused this horrible scene in the first place. I couldn't find him, I'm sure he was already in the next pasture over. Thankfully the rest of my 'plowing' went without incident.
I was still invited in for sweet tea and cookies at the end of my day. I was covered in sweat, grass and dirt. I may have looked like a farmer but that's as close to one as I would ever be. I was embarrassed and defeated. That little bug with the six legs proved my mom was right, I am a city girl. I don't like the outdoors, I still freak out when I think a bug is touching me and I wouldn't be caught dead in overalls. I am pretty sure that 'farming gene' skipped my generation and that is ok with me becuase my 'farming' days are over!
9.6.11
An 8th month old kicked my butt
So remember all that writing I was going to get done today while Sidney entertained herself? Yeah, that didn't happen, in fact the only thing that happned was me taking a nap with her, feeding her, changing her. Holy cow I'm not ready to be a mother yet...she was such a good baby but I'm pooped! To try to be creative while watching a baby, making sure she's happy, not hurting herself or anything like that...not happening, didn't happen. My 'creativity' was my metal to-do list that I wanted to accomplish when I got home...I don't even have enough energy to cross anything off, let alone do anything on the list. Thankfully I have tomorrow off so I can do my to-do list. I have to say though, our pets are totally children. Since I just smacked my head on the keyboard after dozing off...I'm off to recharge my 'creative' batteries
6.6.11
It's Offical
It's offical. I have writer's block. Is it possible to have writer's block if I'm not a real writer? lol. I have set a deadline for myself, July 15th. I feel that will be enough time to get my stories done, edited and published before my Grandma's birthday. Plus if I have a deadline, there will be pressure (like a REAL writer!) I'm hoping this Thursday my brain will finally give me something like my 'Target' story, I mean that story literally just poured out of me! Thursday I am babysitting for a friend of ours so I figured I will have the entire day to write! I'm going to be making outlines until then to help my creative juices flowing! Ok, I just wanted you all out there (hi mom) to know what's up...plus I will probably post my book that I have two chapters done sometime soon as well:)
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