Keep Moving

What do you do when you've reached your limit and just don't know how to keep going? (Yes, again.)

I've been raising children non-stop since I was 19. I'll be 60 next year.

I'll let you think about that for a moment...


Just when I thought the grand/children were starting to spread their wings and fly, the older one did a u-turn and moved back in. It doesn't appear I'll ever get a break.

So, what do you do when you feel you can't go on? I've tried crying. And screaming. And fantasizing about a carefree life far, far away (usually on a beach and alone). But none of that helped one bit.

All I can do is look toward Heaven, and pray, pray, pray... then pray some more. After all, that's what brought me this far. And I trust that God will help me move to wherever He wants me to go from here.

Judging from the past four decades, He will probably just send me to bed for some rest and refreshment so I can get up tomorrow and do it all again.

Time Marches On...Dreams Stay Behind

I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out.

I see other women my age (post-menopausal) who seem to accept who they are...more or less. Yes, they might try to "turn back the hands of time", but they seem to know who--and how old--they are. On the other hand, I've been struggling for years to reconcile the old woman I encounter in the mirror with the 45 year old lady I expect to see.

And now I know why.

Before I reached my 30th birthday, I thought I had my life-plan in place. My youngest child would finish college while I was still in my mid-forties, and there would most likely be many good, healthy years ahead for my husband and me to enjoy life as a couple. But before that day came we found ourselves with one grandchild to care for...and then another. And shortly thereafter it became necessary for us to become their legal guardians. Eventually it became apparent that this was no longer a temporary arrangement and we would remain parents until these two precious children were grown.

Groan. 

I love my grand/daughters dearly, I truly do, and for their sake I was happy to spend the past 18 years caring for them. But now I'm old, tired, and falling apart. And last week, just a few months after I allowed myself to once again entertain ideas of a carefree future, my dreams were...once again...shattered.

I thought we had the oldest grand/daughter on her way to adulthood. She seemed to have a plan and we thought she was on her way to achieving her goals, but then she dropped the bombshell that she wanted a do-over. Not only did she drop out of college (after we had paid for the entire year), but now she wanted to take a year off to figure things out.

When, oh when, will it be my turn? I have it figured out...if only everybody else would do what they're supposed to be doing!

And it isn't just the death of my dreams that has me upset. The stress of endlessly raising children--and not always agreeing on the best way to do that--is taking a toll on my marriage. My husband and I celebrated our anniversary yesterday, but by today there wasn't much to celebrate. I still love him and I think he still loves me, but I don't know how many more stress-fueled arguments we can endure while trying to deal with the seemingly-endless task of raising children into responsible adults.

Anyway, back to the old lady in the mirror. The much-younger lady inside put her life on hold at 45, and subconsciously must have expected to come back eventually and find things just the way she had left them.  But it doesn't work that way. My life stopped...but the clock didn't. And I'm not especially happy about it all. Not because I can't handle a little adversity or hard work, but because I have a difficult time dealing with the impact on my life from the immature, irresponsible, selfish choices of others.

Today was excruciatingly difficult. Tomorrow is looking like it might be worse. But I'll try to start fresh anyway, and pray that if it can't be better I'll at least make it through. God has brought me this far, and I have faith He'll carry me on from here. He might have to. I'm not getting any younger.

Just trying to finish the race.

Truly Golden Years

This weekend, I cried.   But they were tears of joy.  Every single one.

We'll start with the smallest moments of happiness and work up to the biggest.

The "smallest" moment wasn't really small at all.  It's just that it involved my tiny little grandchildren. (Don't be fooled--they might be small in stature, but they occupy a huge place in my heart.)  The joy came not only in that I would get to spend a few hours with them, but also in knowing that they actually wanted to see me.  Well, mostly it was my tiny little granddaughter, a mini version of her mama, who was excited to see her Nana.  But since I've raised four other girls who quite frequently can't stand the sight of me (and often feel the need to express those feelings), you can't imagine the joy I feel in having one who doesn't yet hate me. And since I won't be raising her, there's a real possibility that she might actually love me forever.

I'll take a "small" victory any day.

The reason I was able to see my youngest granddaughter and grandson was because we were all attending my niece's wedding on Saturday.  My niece is such a beautiful, kind person, and I was so happy to see her marry the love of her life.  He seems like a fine young man, and although I don't know him very well, I can clearly see that he makes her happy. And that makes me happy.  And even though this marriage seemed to happen in a whirlwind, I know from my own personal experience that when God sends you the right person, you just know.  I hope she and her husband will have at least as many years together as my husband and I have had, and I pray they will all be very happy ones.  Even though I cried yesterday, they were tears of absolute joy.

And this morning in church I stood beside my younger grand/daughter as she was baptized to show her faith in Jesus and her willingness to follow Him as the Lord of her life.  I (mostly) choked back my tears (13-year-old girls are extremely embarrassed by sobbing grand/mothers), but the joy I felt was overwhelming.  Both grand/daughters have now committed their lives to following Jesus, and I can clearly see exactly why I had to sacrifice my "golden years".

It wasn't really a sacrifice at all.  It was a gift from God. These truly are my golden years.

First Birthday Banner and Cake Topper

No, I haven't been a crafting dynamo lately.  But in an effort to bring a little life to my blog, I've dusted off some never-before-posted projects and I'm now trotting them out to make you think I've actually been doing something.

I haven't.

My daughter asked me to make a cake topper for her daughter's first birthday.  Or maybe I volunteered. I'm pretty sure I insisted she let me make a Happy Birthday banner whether she wanted one or not. I know she would have loved to make all her own decorations (she's much craftier than me!), but she has a full-time job and two toddlers, whereas I'm a stay-at-home grand/mother who needs a purpose in life beyond cleaning up after able-bodied teenagers, so I enjoy an opportunity to make something fun that will actually be used and appreciated.  

I wish I had been able to get a better picture of the window, but my photo skills are seriously lacking. But you get the idea.  The giant pompoms and purple streamers in the window were made by my daughter (probably while two little cuties were pulling at the crepe paper and trying to undo all her hard work).

The banner was made using the Cricut cartridges Creative Memories-Tiny Treasures (butterfly, ladybug, bird, elephant and "1st") and Birthday Cakes (letters).  The letters were placed on simple rectangles I cut with my paper trimmer.  (Another horrible picture.  When my ship comes in I hope there's a professional photographer on board.)

I stitched a simple banner for the cake topper, then made some matching pompoms using a variety of fabrics.  I wasn't sure I liked the color combination, so I tried again with softer shades of purple.  I let my daughter choose her favorite (which turned out to be the first ones!)

And this was my reward--spending time with my two precious grandchildren, who live much too far away:

My adorable granddaughter wasn't a big fan of the cake, which seemed to perplex her equally-adorable brother.

Oh, and they don't live in a tropical climate, far removed from the cold weather and snow currently sweeping across the country.  This party actually took place in August.  I'm that slow.

Stuffed Giraffe

I wrote a few days ago about the "Fun with Elmo" book I made for my two-year-old grandson in a desperate attempt to gain his favor.  I needed to earn a spot in the heart of his adorable little sister, too, so I had to think of something I could make for a not-quite-one-year-old.  Since giraffes have a special significance in my family, I found a pattern online to make a small stuffed giraffe just right for tiny little hands.

I used some patterned fleece I already had and strategically cut it to give the giraffe a little more color and interest.  I braided some thin ribbon to create the tail, which I stitched into the seam, and "embroidered" (term used loosely) the eyes with plain black thread.  Stuffing the giraffe was quite the challenge, but I succeeded (eventually) and hand-stitched the opening as tightly as possible.

It isn't perfect, but toddlers aren't terribly discerning when it comes to concepts such as quality and durability.  It's soft, it's colorful, and I'm pretty sure that's good enough for now.

The Definition of Family

The grandmother of my younger grand/daughter*, Chatty Cathy, posted a slideshow on Facebook titled "Chatty Cathy and her family".  (Well, something like that, but it used her real name.)  My first thought was, "Oh my goodness, which of my most-unflattering pictures did she share without my permission this time?"

Silly, silly me.

There were no pictures of me.  Or my husband.  Or our oldest grand/daughter.  There were just pictures of Chatty Cathy, her paternal grandmother, her biological father and her birth mother. No pictures of the people who are providing every last dime of her financial support, who nurture her and show her love every day, who comfort her when she's hurting, who help her with her homework and tuck her into bed at night.  No pictures of the woman who cleans up after her (endlessly) and provides her with healthy (and delicious, if I do say so myself) meals.  No pictures of the middle-aged man who works two jobs and juggles what's left of his hard-earned retirement funds to provide a home, clothes, food, medical care, and all the other exorbitant expenses that come with raising children.  No pictures of her big sister, who loves her as only a sister can, and who is probably her most-trusted confidant at this point in her life.  There were actually pictures that my husband and I had taken while on vacation with Chatty Cathy that had been cropped to remove all traces of us. The "family" slideshow consisted of pictures of the people who created her but only show up when they choose, and based on their lack of financial support, must assume that she forages for nuts and grains in the wild when she gets hungry, and wraps herself in fig leaves or animal skins when she gets cold.

I know I need to let it go.  I need to find a way to shed the anger and frustration.  Somehow I need to pull these raggedy old exhausted bones up and just get over it.  But today I'm too tired.  I've already done eight loads of laundry, cleaned more than a woman whose children are grown should ever have to clean, cooked a big meal, attempted to repair yet another piece of equipment in this aging house, tripped over a boatload of kids' shoes that should be in the cubbies that take up way too much of the hallway that leads to the laundry room, and fought (to no avail) to get the girls to do chores.  And I've been cursed out by a teenage malcontent.

Sounds like family life to me.

*Grand/daughter:  A biological granddaughter who is being raised by her grandparents as if she was their own daughter.

Tile Photo Coasters

For the past few years I've given my adult children gift baskets for Christmas.  It's hard to know what to buy them, and I can't afford lavish gifts they can't buy for themselves, so making gift baskets just seems to be a nice way to give them gift cards or cash without it seeming so impersonal.

Mostly I've been filling the baskets with homemade candy or cookies.  But after a while it just gets stale (literally and figuratively.)  This year I decided to take a stab at making candles for my daughters in addition to the usual junk food.  I tried making small candles for my granddaughters last year, but it didn't end well.  For some reason I thought I could make even bigger candles for my daughters without having practiced once in the past 365 days.  Yes, I did the same thing over again expecting different results.

Insanity.

But those candles made it into the gift baskets anyway.  (Maybe I'll post about that another day, just for kicks.)

Since I couldn't imagine my son-in-law lounging in the tub with a scented candle, and he would be sharing the gift basket with his wife, I decided I should make something a little more manly that he could appreciate.  Or at least something he could use.  Tile coasters with pictures of their children seemed like the perfect handmade gift.  Yes, chunks of stone sitting on the coffee table in a brand-spanking-new home with two children under the age of two is the perfect gift.

The tutorial I used can be found at leelala.net.  Here's my take on the project:

I purchased 4 x 4 inch tumbled stone tiles at Home Depot in a package of nine for just under $5.  I liked the rustic look of these.  They looked like they would hide mistakes imperfections well.

After editing my photos to the color and size I wanted, I taped tissue paper to cardstock and printed them. (This can be tricky with some printers, so be prepared to make multiple attempts.)  I then trimmed off the excess tissue paper.  Using a foam brush, I coated each tile with Mod Podge and gently applied a photo.

As you can see, bubbles and wrinkles will happen.  I gently pressed the wet photos to smooth them.

I allowed each tile to dry completely, then applied the first coat of Mod Podge over each photo.  I applied a total of three coats of Mod Podge, allowing each coat to dry completely before applying the next.

Due to the irregular shapes of the tiles, there were a few photo edges that had to be either trimmed down or glued and pressed down against the sides.  I waited until after the initial coat had dried to do this.  I also brushed a couple of coats of Mod Podge around the sides to help seal everything.

After my final coat of Mod Podge had dried, I sprayed a couple of coats of clear acrylic sealer over each photo to further protect the coasters, allowing the first coat to dry complete before applying the next. 

When the sealer was completely dry, I cut four pieces of felt to apply to the undersides of the coasters.  A standard sheet of felt I purchased at Michaels was large enough for all four coasters.  I used Scotch Quick-Dry Adhesive to glue the felt to the tiles, but I'm sure many other brands of glue would work just as well.

Who wouldn't love to see these adorable faces peeking out from under their coffee cup?

In hindsight, being that it's 20-20 and all, here's what I learned:

Don't attempt to work with tissue paper and Mod Podge with too little sleep and too much coffee.  Shaky hands, glue and tissue paper aren't a good combination.  Especially when you've run out of time to try printing the photos again and the home improvement store has closed for the holidays.

Which brings me to number 2:  Don't wait until Christmas Eve to get started.

Be gentle with the tissue paper when placing it onto the Mod Podged-tiles.  Now is the time to kick your perfectionism to the curb.  If your photo isn't perfectly centered, just go with it.  Trying to move it could cause you to utter foul words you didn't even know you knew.

And again, perfection isn't your goal.  When you get bubbles in your tissue paper photo, and you will, just gently work them out as best you can.  And the crinkles that will appear out of nowhere?  Those just give it character.  Keep repeating that until you believe it.

Sometimes Nanas Get the Blues

A few days ago my daughter gave birth to her second child.  I gladly traveled a few hundred miles to stay with my 18-month-old grandson while his parents were at the hospital.  I don't see him nearly often enough, and it was definitely a nice diversion from the stresses at home.

Lately I've been suffering from severe depression and anxiety.  Though they've been long-term members of my psyche, only in recent months have they been keeping me awake at night.  Between the frequent nasty comments directed at my husband and me on Facebook (more about that never-ending drama here), the stress of living out of a suitcase for much of the summer, children constantly reminding me of my every real or perceived imperfection, and just the fact that I'm completely exhausted by life, it's hard to quiet the voices in my head long enough to fall asleep.

I took my grandson to meet his new baby sister shortly after her birth.  He wasn't as thrilled with her arrival as the rest of us were.  At first he simply seemed confused.  He had been hearing about this "baby" and "little sister" for what seemed like an eternity (and in reality, half his life), all the while his mama's stomach had been getting bigger and bigger and looked more and more like his favorite toy, a ball.  But now Mama was holding this tiny little thing instead of him, and it didn't look at all like a ball.  And come to think of it, she'd left him alone with this strange woman who looked only vaguely familiar. What in the world was going on??? 

What is that tiny creature Mama is holding?  Hey, wait!  That's my spot!  That's my Mama!  Yeah, that's right...put her in that little basket and let her cry a while.  Oh, no!  Why are they giving her back to Mama???  This can't be happening!  I'll show her!  I'll show them all!!!

My daughter tried to get her son to sit next to her on the bed.  He had been betrayed, left alone with a stranger, and he would have no part of this blatant pandering.  He turned and ran toward me.  I promise you, this has never happened before in the 18 months he's been here.  As a matter of fact, he usually runs in the opposite direction. 

No doubt, he was mad. 

At some point and with enough coaxing, his love for his Mama and his need to be near her got the better of him.  He climbed up for a quick hug and a sneak peak at Little Sister.  He wasn't impressed.  Besides, there were still lessons in loyalty to be taught.  He regained his composure and ran back to me.  It took all he had, but he managed to avoid climbing into Mama's arms and reclaiming his rightful place.  He finally gave her a perfunctory kiss and we headed home for the night.

At bedtime my anxiety got the best of me.  My heart was racing.  The pounding in my chest was unbearable.  I turned on my computer just to take my mind off my body, and then I heard my grandson crying.  I waited a few minutes to give him time to calm down and fall asleep, to no avail, then went upstairs to get him.  We rocked for a while.  He would close his eyes and start to drift off, then quickly glance up at me to be sure I was still there.  This had gone on for 15 minutes or so when I realized my breathing had slowed and my heart was no longer trying to escape the confines of my chest.  I was calm.  And then he was sound asleep.

It seems we both just needed reassurance that we were wanted and loved.

Laughter from Above

God has a sense of humor.

After years of quiet isolation, I decided to venture into a "small group" at our very large church.  As much as I enjoy sitting at home being judged only by my granddaughter, it seemed like it was time to get out of the house and allow a few other people to form their own negative opinions about me.  I might not make much of a mark in this world, but I'm good for helping other people feel better about themselves.

My husband and I have tried a small group in the past, but with children in tow it never seemed to work out the way we needed.  The meetings were held in members' homes, and often lasted past the girls' bedtime.  Also, I hated dealing with my kids constantly coming into the room interrupting our conversation.  After a few months it started to feel like a chore instead of a time to connect with other adults and grow closer to God.  When I'm yelling at the kids and using bad language while driving home from Bible study, it's not a good sign.

Fast forward a few years.  My now-teenage granddaughter had been asked to help with childcare for a small group on Wednesday night.  My husband received an email from another small group leader asking if we'd be interested in joining them on Wednesday nights at the church.   And childcare for the youngest granddaughter would be provided in the church gym.  It seemed like a perfect fit.

Trying to mask my social phobia, I slapped on my best smile and walked into the room with  my husband.  Only a handful of people had arrived before us.  After a few introductions, we took our seats and watched as everyone slowly trickled in.  A disturbing pattern began to emerge.  These people were young.   My granddaughters are older than most of their children.  Heck, strictly from a biological standpoint I could be a great-grandmother.  (Note to the Princess:  If you ever want to kill me, making that happen in the next few years would be an effective method.) 

All these attractive young people were as nice as can be.   But we're at very different stages in our lives.  I've been at this for 35 years, and I've grown weary.  They can't yet accept that someday far in the future their little ones will actually leave for college.  I'm happily counting down, in single digits, the years left until I can kick my second set out of the nest.  Right now their parenting problems revolve around toddlers who are just starting to test the word "NO!", while I'm dealing with a teenager who knows everything and imparts her wisdom with a side of attitude.  I don't want to be the bitter old lady who laughs and says, "You just think you have problems now."   I also don't want to be in a group where I'm described as "the older lady".  As my husband astutely observed, putting me in a situation where I'm the oldest person in the room isn't good for anybody.

There was a real effort by several people at the end of the session to make this old couple feel welcome.  As I was chatting with one nice young lady, I mentioned that my granddaughter was babysitting at another group meeting.  "Oh, if you don't mind I'd love to get her name!  My babysitter is leaving for college soon!"  Reality hit like an asteroid.  My granddaughter is old enough to babysitter her children. 

I picked up my reading glasses and got out of there as fast as my old-lady legs could take me.

Please Join Me For a Glass of Whine

It hasn't been a good month life.  And today, our one semi-dependable vehicle was rammed by a clueless woman who proceeded to park at CVS as if nothing happened and step inside (for an awareness pill, I hope), all while my husband and his car were fishtailing helplessly on the highway outside.

I would love to buy a new vehicle.  Or a newer old vehicle.  Just something that doesn't leak a quart of oil daily.  Or doesn't have a crushed side panel.  Something that was built in this century would be a nice change.  I'm just not sure that's a luxury we can afford right now.  We're already dipping into what little retirement money we still have to pay for the monthly cost of living (things like food, housing, electricity, water, orthodontia, and motor oil).

I'd cry if I had any energy left.  My husband depends on that car to get him around while he works his second job trying to sell things to people who don't want to buy.  I drive the kids around in the Pennzoilmobile. Thank goodness we were able to vacation at Disneyworld recently.  It was a great stress-reliever (at least it was once I got used to dodging oversized strollers and speed demons on scooters playing chicken with us).  Luckily, with the exception of food and gas, the trip was already paid for.  And we had to eat no matter where we were.   As if by Disney magic, we didn't have to deplete the retirement funds to finance this trip.

Upon reflection, my life really isn't so bad.  I have two beautiful granddaughters who keep me young (or age me excessively, depending on the day).  I have two daughters I love dearly who give me precious grandchildren (including the brand new grandson I'll get to meet in a few months).  And I have a loving, hardworking husband who thankfully wasn't hurt today, and who laughs along with me (and allows me to cry) about this crazy life we've been given.  I guess I've been blessed after all.

Serendipity

I haven't smiled much lately.  It's not that my life is so bad, it just hasn't turned out to be what I had worked toward.  Sometimes I forget that God has a much better plan than mine.


My youngest daughter called her dad early last week to let him know that she and her husband would be coming to visit.   They live several hundred miles away and we don't see them nearly often enough.  I hadn't even spoken to my daughter in a few weeks, which is unusual. I was starting to take it personally, but I also knew she was going through a lot.  She works long hours as a nurse in a hospital, and lately she has taken on extra shifts.  They were trying to prepare their home for sale, not knowing where they would move but knowing it was time for a change.  Then recently she was devastated to learn that she and her husband would have a very difficult time conceiving a child.  Being a mother has been her dream for several years now.  My heart ached for her.  She was learning to cope as best she could.  But then she decided to make the most of this road block and completely change the course of her life.  Rather than starting a family, she was now focused on turning her life into an adventure.  While I was sad for her and her husband that babies most likely weren't in their near-future, I was relieved that she was ready to move forward with other possibilities.


The day they were to arrive, I was out running errands when my daughter called me from my house.  I cut short my "errands" (code word for time- and money-wasting shopping excursions) and rushed home. 


When I walked through the door we exchanged hugs and talked about ordering pizza for lunch.  As I was putting away groceries (sometimes "errands" really do include errands), she stated that she had some news.  Trying to put on a supportive face, I braced myself to hear that she had been accepted into the Army.  Being the wife of a National Guardsman, she had decided that if she couldn't become a mother, she would challenge herself much the same as my son-in-law had a few years earlier.  She was actually looking forward to bootcamp.  We're alike in many ways, just not this one.


As she made her announcement, it became clear why she hadn't called lately.  This was news she wanted to give in person, and she was afraid if she spoke to me on the phone she wouldn't be able to contain her excitement.

That's right--they were having a baby!  I'm not sure what happened next.  I think I asked if this was happy news in light of the new plans they had made.  I think they responded that yes, this was good news.  All I know for sure is that I smiled a big goofy grin that probably lasted longer than was comfortable for anyone watching.  But I was happy.  Extremely happy.


When I first learned of the fertility problems my daughter and son-in-law were having, I prayed for a miracle.  I prayed more faithfully than I have in a long time in spite of the fact that I was pretty sure God was sick of hearing me whine about one thing after another.  This was different.  I had to be tenacious for my daughter and her husband.  And just a few short months later, I find my prayers were answered.   Oops, I forgot to withdraw the request when plans changed.  I hope my daughter will forgive me.  Judging from the smile on her face, I'm pretty sure she will.


Sometime in January, I plan to welcome my third grandchild into this crazy experience we call "life".  It isn't always what we want, but if we can find a way to gratefully accept everything God places in front of us, somewhere between all the heartbreak and disappointment we will find an abundance of His blessings.