Heptadecagon

A simple list can be so crucial these days. A reminder of what to do, where she's been, what needs to be done next week. Much like her, I've always used lists. I gain joy from marking off each item as I accomplish it. But my lists and her lists are so vastly different, so far from one another, it pains me to think about those differences. List 1: pasta, mushrooms A seemingly innocuous list, unless you know that it serves as a reminder of what she currently has on the stove for dinner that night. List 2: Granite City, Belleville, Troy, Bloomfield A list of cities but also a way of remembering where she's lived since having been married. List 3: M, Feb 8, 70 years old; T, Aug 20, 80 years old The most powerful list of all...the one that speaks volumes and brings tears to my eyes...the one that indicates she isn't sure when her birthday is or how many years she's had on this earth. I look at her, washing dishes at the sink for the sixth time that day. I

Took this from FRN, who shared it with me...

With that title, I've forced the Meghan Trainor song into my head. But by the time the kids make you read this post, that song will be considered ancient and the link might not work. So trust me, the song (Dear Future Husband) is pretty catchy, but it's not your favorite. What is your favorite song? You don't have one, but you lean toward 80s pop (I know, I know. I can't believe it, either.) and you love Pachelbel's Canon (good choice, by the way). Ask the kids anything else about you, or go back and read your blog posts. You're pretty much an open book. Especially these days. And that's because you've got a lot going on in your life right now. You teach, you write, you edit, you mom, you read, you're trying to get back into running after that seemingly harmless injury (in which you really have no idea what you did wrong), and most recently, you're trying to take care of your folks. From your home four hours south of them. In fact, Zoe said to

Have you ever seen a wordle ? It's a group of related words that form what's called a word cloud . That word cloud can be used to convey a message. Right now, my mind is experiencing an overload, and if I could take a picture of what's inhabiting my brain, the thoughts inside would form a wordle. No kidding. But since I don't have time to make my own wordle (and my computer needs another plugin to make it so), I thought I'd see what's out there in terms of good wordles that describe my week. I found a not-so-positive example when I Googled aging wordles : And then, because I didn't want to focus on the negative, I searched for happy wordles and found this: In order to get to the happy wordle place in my brain, however, I will need to do this:

Dear Dad, It's been quite the month for you, hasn't it? A little spill. A bit of shingles. Some weakness and blurry vision. Your diabetes seems under control most of the time, but other things about your body seem to speak that not all is right with your world. And so here you are, sitting in rehab, and I'm hoping to keep you there. I have to be honest and say that I am not worried about you . You've proven that you are relatively healthy and strong and I truly believe that you will recover, if you give yourself enough time. If you work with the physical therapists. If you don't push yourself to go home before your body is ready. I also have to be honest and tell you that the reason I don't want you to push yourself to go home is that you can't go home. Okay, well, really--you can go home. You can get there, you can sit at home, you can convalesce there, even though I think it will take you longer to do so. But if you go home, you will be doing Mom an

WARNING: I use some not-so-savory language in this post. I woke up this morning to find one little puddle of urine behind the chair in the girls' room, one medium-sized puddle of urine on Aaron's comforter, and one very large puddle of urine in the basement. Now, I know that none of the people in this house urinated in a place that wasn't the toilet, and I know that Shadow did not have the problem (he doesn't climb stairs). But as for the other four mammals...I'm not completely certain of which animal might be pissing all over the place. (Excuse my slang. I don't usually use that word, but somehow, it feels right. Probably because their pissing causes me to get pissed off.) I've seen Arnold urinate outside the litter box, but the puddle in the basement was so large, I can't possibly imagine his bladder could hold that much urine. At least not in one sitting. (Plus,  I added another litter box, in the event that he didn't like the other boxes at h

131. Raspberry lemonade sangria. 132. Fireflies. 133. Closed doors. (You might wonder why I once said open doors was a reason to be happy and now we have closed doors. I mean that sometimes, a closed door means you can't hear the whining.) 134. The Tree Tower at Cox Arboretum. 135. Rain drops on roses. 136. Whiskers on kittens. 137. Cooling fans on warm late spring days. 138. Corn on the cob. 139. Shallow puddles on driveways. 140. Warm Timmy hugs.

With the onset of spring and summer comes a manic impulse to clean house. After moving things around in the girls' room and Melina's room, I've started on the basement. So far, we've taken out loads of recycling to the garage, moved out two interior doors we've never used, and thrown away old and dusty alcoholic beverages (believe me, these were the kind that do not get better with age). None of what I discarded held any sentimental value to me. Until I reached the Noah's Ark lamp . The lamp was the first one I bought the girls, while they were still in utero. We didn't know the twins were two girls and their bedroom was so small, we opted for the simple lamp I found at Meijer. Religion had nothing to do with my choice; I simply liked the animals carved into it. Aaron also used the lamp, and so did Melina, until we bought her a taller more Melina-like lamp. But much like Melina is wont to do, she couldn't part with the lamp, and neither could I. So sh

It's been a long time ( March 6, 2014 actually) since I posted any reasons to be happy. And after this long week with my dad's health issues, I could stand to concentrate on why I should be happy rather than why I should be not-so-happy. Even though I posted previous reasons in increments of ten, #121 was given that day in 2014, so I'll start again there. 121. Open doors. 122. Family, no matter who much aggravation they can cause. 123. The scamper of kitten feet across wood floors. 124. The feeling you get when you know you're doing something amazing. 125. Elementary teacher hugs. 126. The memories that are evoked when you stare at photographs you've taken long ago. 127. Mo Willems and his delightful pigeon. 128. Fleece bathrobes. 129. Texting. (Yes, I just wrote that. It saved me this week.) 130. The feeling you get on the first day of summer vacation that you have an entire adventure in front of you.

Sometimes you must let go of your fears in order to help someone you love.

I called my parents yesterday. I asked how Dad was feeling, how Mom was handling the multiple doctor appointments that Dad had to get to, and whether or not they both were holding up. My sister, Tara, had offered to take the day off to usher Dad to those appointments. Tara's presence helped my parents, but it also helped Gina and me. We all needed to understand what was going on with Dad's health. On the phone, Mom seemed grateful for Tara's help, but I could tell that the day had overwhelmed her. "You need to learn to ask for help, Mom. We can help, but I have to be honest, it would be better if you lived closer to one of us." "We did ask for help," she said. "I couldn't get your dad back into bed. We called Jim." Jim is a neighbor of theirs, but my parents live in a neighborhood whose residents are predominantly on the older side. "He's as old as you are," I reminded her. "No, he's only 66." I si

It's been a really long week around here. So long that I need some kitty love. So here's our new installment of cute kitty photos. I'm stopping at two because I have places to be. Happy Tuesday! (It is Tuesday, right?)

Knowing someone via Facebook isn't really knowing that person. I know that statement is so profound for a Monday morning. I know I didn't need to say those words. But when I signed up for Facebook back in 2008 and started building my friend list, there were a few people who friended me and I thought, "Cool. They seemed so nice back then. Maybe I'll get to see how they really are." And over the last seven years, I've learned that yes, those people might be pretty cool, but there was a reason I wasn't good friends with them in the first place. (In all fairness, they could very well be saying this about me, too.) Now don't be hard on me. I realize that I just said it's hard to know people via Facebook. So each day, when I check on these people, I only get a two-dimensional glimpse into snippets of their lives. But you and I both know that you can tell a lot about a person by what they post. What I've found out most recently is just how sup

Four years ago, almost to the day, I experienced a few wake-up calls , one of them with respect to sugar. I vowed on that day to limit my sugar intake, and four years into that vow, I can tell you I've failed miserably. But today is a new day. And it's the day after I saw some of what diabetes might be doing to my dad. And if he can cut out the sugar, so can I. So I have made (yet) another vow to cut out sugar. Which means I need a plan of attack and here it is: to increase my level of exercise as much as I can (considering I'm still nursing that injury) and cut out sugar. I'll keep my treat in the morning with my coffee only so long as I stop eating ice cream or cookies at night. If I can't manage taking out the sugar after dinner, if I go back to consuming more sugar than I should, I'm cutting good old glucose out entirely, just like Dad, just like FRN. By the way, I consider my self pretty reliable, the sort of person who follows through with what she t

In the end, it wasn't really their fault that they missed the recital. They had changed their plans: instead of meeting up with the Bs, they decided to come down and see the girls sing. They arrived Friday afternoon. On Saturday morning, they were showered and ready to go well ahead of time. And then their plans changed. Again. "My eye still hurts," he said. "It's not a sharp pain, but it kept me awake. I feel pressure behind it." "Well," she said, "I think you should call your doctor. We have time. And they should have a physician on call, I would think." He thought about her words, considered them, probably tossed them out before they'd even settled into his brain. But her sister called, the clinician, and she told her about what he'd said--about the pain, the pressure. The sister ran through a battery of simple tests over the phone, all of which he cleared, but she suggested as well that he call his doctor. And so h

I've been a day ahead of myself all week. Yesterday's post was originally entitled, Friday Thought , and it wasn't until about four o'clock this morning that I realized my error. I've changed the title now, to the just as mundane and seriously uncatchy, Thursday Thought , but I guess at least I'm using some alliteration, you know? (Why was I up that early? I was lying in bed, under attack by at least one cat. I can't be sure which one. I did go back to sleep.) My ability to forget what day it is goes hand in hand with the end of the semester. When I have a set schedule of teaching, I rarely forget what day it is. When I'm momming and volunteering, it could be any day of the week. I'm afraid for what is to come, because as of next Thursday, my children will all be home. Yes, our summer break starts on the afternoon of May 21. A couple of weeks ago, I admitted that I'm ready for the summer. We've been sick all school year long, so I'm h

Last week was Teacher Appreciation Week (although we're celebrating it this week in the elementary school with breakfast, lunch, and treats for the teachers), so teachers have been in the news  as of late, or at least in the news feed. I ran across this link for the top quotes about teaching, culled together in case any of the teachers out there need a pat on the back, I guess. If you're like me, you spend a lot of time feeling under appreciated (sort of like parenting, no?) and the list is supposed to make you feel better perhaps. But the quotes given do not make me think, Oh yes, that's why I went into teaching ! Not at all. I think it's because I felt luke-warm about the list. I mean, I like the choices (they provide nine quotes), but all of them are lofty, so unlike what a student would say to you. I didn't get a warm and fuzzy feeling from most of the quotes (although I like the words of Albert Einstein), so I went searching for some quotes that spoke to me

I think Tuesdays are going to become "post your best kitty photo" day. These littles just keep giving us some great photo ops. And since it's already almost 2 p.m. and the human littles will be heading home soon, I don't have much time to write. So ruminate on this face or use it as a writing prompt. I know I will.

One of my Mother's Day gifts came from Melina. You've seen the picture she drew of me already, but I'd like to share the rest of the project. Which is a paper purse that tells all about me, the mom. I have thoughts about making a purse for mothers--how trite it might be, or how stereotypical--but I'll tell you honestly that I didn't carry a purse until I became a mother. So stereotypical or not, the purse is mighty apropos. At least in my case. Anyway, back to the purse. I think the pictures can tell the story. Love the front of this purse. The swirls and rainbow are my favorite parts. Again, Melina added the swirls. And she chose green because, as you'll find out, green is my favorite color. She is spot-on about all of this, but I have to say there are other things I like to do more than rest. However, Melina probably hears me say that I need to rest more often than she hears that I need to read, or write, or run. (I really do forget to brush he

I didn't get to sleep in. Or have breakfast in bed. I didn't have anyone come up to me and hand me a gift (I'd gotten two homemade gifts the day before). In fact, today started like every other day. Melina woke me up, I made coffee, I ate toasted oats with milk. Once the older children were awake, I took all four of them with me to the grocery store. Tim slept in. Later, I threw some food together and vacuumed the floors before our friends arrived for a late lunch. We had a casual afternoon, in an air-conditioned home. I finished up my Dairy Queen treat from yesterday and by evening, gave Melina a bath. I worked on a critique that's hanging over my head, and I'm heading up now, for a hot shower. An ordinary day. An extraordinary day. A mother's day.

Melina brought home a Mother's Day project yesterday that included a portrait she drew of me. I'm thrilled with her depiction. She managed to capture the colors in my hair and the essence of one of my favorite T-shirts (although the shirt looks like it could be my famous fleece, too). The picture can serve as proof one day, when I'll tell my grand kids that, despite the bifocals, I didn't always have gray hair. 

Getting old smacks you in the face sometimes. Like today, when the optometrist said to me, "Those readings mean you're ready for bifocals." I knew the day was coming. I often lift my glasses when I'm trying to adjust the radio station in the car, and I've been known to thread a needle with my glasses off. Yes, Dr. B's proclamation was no surprise. "It isn't going to get any better, you know," he added. The sympathetic look on his face sent me into a fit of laughter. "I know, I know," I said, nodding my head as I shook his hand. I packed up my purse, checked out with the receptionist, and placed an order for bifocals with the optical shop. Bifocals.   My grandma used to wear bifocals. My dad wears them now. Somehow it doesn't seem right that a body that can still get pregnant must rely on bifocal lenses to see. I'm hoping that my view is a good one.

Warning: I'm expressing an opinion in this post. It might not be your opinion, but this is my blog. Just giving you that warning so you can leave now if you want. I'm not the sort of person who reads People every day. (And it's okay if you are...no judgment here. I read it every other day, probably.) But sometimes, on the days I have no plans to cruise to that site, a link will catch my eye and I click on over to read all about the pretty people. Most of those pretty people probably aren't any better looking than us. They just have better makeup and photographers, you know? The link that caught my eye today floored me. In bold letters, the title says: Chlamydia Outbreak at Texas High School with Abstinence-Only Sex-Ed Program . Yes, you read that right. Chlamydia at a high school. And it's an outbreak. If you read the article, you'll understand that 20 cases of chlamydia have been confirmed at Crane High School in west Texas. What's 20 cases? When you on

Don't judge a man until you have walked two moons in his moccasins.  ~Sharon Creech, Walk Two Moons My dad used to wear a pair of moccasins around the house when I was a kid. They kept his feet warm during cold Michigan winters. To this day, he calls most of his house shoes moccasins, whether they are or not. It's memories like these that make me smile, make me want something more... When I look back at many of the posts I've written, I realize that some of you readers might think I come from a dysfunctional family. So this will not be news to you when I say that yes, yes, I do. But don't we all have some dysfunction in the family? I can only imagine what my children will say years from now, maybe when they're writing their own blog about their lives, their journeys, their children. Actually, I'm a little bit afraid of what they'll say. Because even though I'm busy, my kids and their relationship with me is the most important thing in my life (alo

Because who couldn't stand some kitty cuteness on a Tuesday morning? Clearly, these cats lead a charmed life. No trouble adjusting here, I tell you.

A month ago, she called to tell them about the girls' spring recital. "It won't be a very big bunch of kids, but you'll be able to hear the girls sing." They always loved the girls' voices. They'd been begging, for years, to have the girls sing for them. "That sounds nice," the man said. "We'd like to come. Just let me know the date." "I can even come drive you down, if you want me to," she said. "I'll let you know when I find out which day. It's in May, probably early on." "Sounds good," he said. "Say hi to the kids."  As soon as she hung up the phone, she emailed the singing teacher and asked about the date of the recital. A Saturday would be better for us , she wrote, because I might have to drive and go get them. And Saturdays are easier on everyone's schedule. Including their schedule. The next time she called, she was happy the man picked up the phone, since she p

FRN isn't really here today. She was last weekend, though, so I should have had her write a little something then. But I didn't. However, she posted something to my Facebook wall today that bears repeating. And since it's Sunday and I have editing to do, her helpful little post will make my Sunday post easy. Hence, it's a guest post by FRN. I didn't realize it until FRN posted this quote today that I'm doing an all right job at living my life this way. We sometimes eat pizza on my wedding China plates and I let Melina wear my fancy dresses to the grocery store. The yummy chocolate I'm given as a gift? We might as well eat it now. I'm grateful and happy each day I wake up because yes, each day is a special occasion. There are worse ways to live a life, that's for sure.

Early Saturday morning. Melina and I are the only people awake (of course). Except for the kitties, who are running around the living room. Melina watches them with a gleeful look on her face. I'm watching her, with what feels like the same expression on my own face. Melina: Huh, huh. What is that strange thing on the window? Me: What honey? What are you talking about? Melina: Oh, I was talking from the point of view of Benedict. See that strange thing on the window? It's the reflection of your computer. Me: Oh, okay. Budding writer as well as budding actress? I guess we'll have to see. There are worse occupations she could aspire to than screenplay writer or actress, right? P.S. I just keyed in a title, but the writing child decided that I needed to change that title, hence the current Strange Thing .

Dear Student, This is the third letter I will be writing to random students. When I started writing the first letter , I never thought I could make a series out of these letters, but here we are, months later, and I'm rethinking my tune. Maybe if I keep going, my Dear Student letters can be compiled and published. Stranger things have happened, you know. (In case you missed my second letter, you can find it here .) But I'm not here to talk about my writing and publishing journey. I'm here to give you some tips for a successful semester. Now don't balk. I realize that our semester is actually over. Yes, you read that right. Maybe you aren't aware of it, but we took the last exam on Monday and I offered the comprehensive final on Wednesday, so in short, we're done. But since you contacted me last night about an exam you never made up--the one the rest of the students took on April 6--I wanted to make sure you knew that the class has indeed, come to a close.