Resignation

I'm beyond exhausted. Forget the nearly four decades I've spent raising children. I'm just talking about this week.

I don't know how many hours of sleep I've averaged, but with The Princess working about four nights a week, sometimes until 4 a.m. (I HATE late-night drive-throughs!), I am more sleep-deprived than a mom of newborn triplets (and a heck of a lot older). Last night I slept a maximum of four hours, and that was probably one of my more restful nights.

It's 12:36 a.m. and here I sit, waiting, waiting, waiting.

And it isn't just the lack of sleep that's taking a toll...the stress is killing me. I'm drained physically, mentally, emotionally and any other way possible. And that's just from the kids who live with me. I won't even address the other factors.

This weekend I will "celebrate" my birthday. Already my modest plans have been changed several times, and without enough sleep, I seriously doubt I will feel like hiking tomorrow. Is a short hike in the mountains really too much for an old lady to expect for her birthday???!!! 

It's turning out to be the fabulous weekend I've been told I deserve. Happy birthday to me.

Numbered Birthday Shaker Card

My granddaughter was celebrating her 13th birthday (yes, I would now have two teenage girls under my roof...again), so I felt her card needed to reflect that milestone.  And since I'm still working on my shaker card skills, I thought I'd give that another try.

Using my Cricut Explore and the Design Space software, I designed a rectangular card front, then sliced the number "13" from it using the Cricut cartridge Hello Kitty Font. I backed the cutout with a piece of acetate to make a window, then adhered foam tape to the backside of the paper around the number to form the border of the shaker area. I put a generous amount of chunky glitter and microbeads within the foam tape border, then sealed it by attaching the solid pink background paper. I glued the constructed shaker front to a standard card blank, then finished by decorating the front with a strip of patterned paper topped with a single small cupcake.. The number "13" that I had previously cut from the card front was used to dress up the outside of the envelope. After all, turning 13 is a pretty big deal!

Thanks for stopping by!

Driving Miss Crazy

Exactly.

As I pulled into my driveway at 12:30 a.m. tonight (this morning?) after dropping Chatty Cathy off at a sleepover (long story), it occurred to me that I might be close to losing what's left of my mind.

A week ago The Princess was in an accident that totaled her car. Luckily she wasn't hurt and it wasn't her fault.  She finally got a rental car on Thursday.  On Friday she was rear-ended by another student after leaving school.  Again, I feel fortunate that no one was injured and that it was the other driver's fault.

But dang.

And since my husband and I aren't looking to start chauffering her around again, we spent Saturday desperately looking for a reliable, inexpensive car that wouldn't require one of us to sell a kidney. (I doubt there's much of a market for body parts with this much wear and tear.)

Today (yesterday?) was spent driving Chatty Cathy around.  The chauffering started immediately after church and didn't end until the day was over. Literally.

I'm tired.  Raising children is exhausting. And apparently neverending. My husband and I no longer even pretend to be anything other than two ships passing in the night. It's sad really. I thought we planned our lives a little better than that.

Unrelenting stress is driving me insane, and I'm pretty sure it's a short trip from here.

Human Emotions

In defense of loving mothers everywhere, myself included...

Frequently I use my blog as an outlet to express my frustrations with life, especially motherhood. I forget that occasionally my blog is actually read by somebody. The primary reason I don't use my full name, or link my blog to other social media outlets, is to avoid embarrassing or hurting someone I know. But I am a human being with real human feelings (although it often seems that moms aren't considered "real" people), and I do sometimes say things that are very real. A person, even a mother, can only take so much.

Mothers are human beings, first and foremost. We don't stop feeling once we have children. As a matter of fact, our feelings become much more intense when we have children we love more than life itself, and nothing hurts more than giving all we have to those children only to receive hateful comments, disrespect, thoughtlessness, and never-ending blame in return.

There isn't a derogatory name that hasn't been hurled my way at one time or another in my 37 years of child rearing. It hurts, especially when I've tried to give my best to my children. I'm sorry if my best wasn't everything they thought they needed, but it was all I had to give. I had a childhood, too, and it made me who I am, for better or worse. Mothers aren't robots, created solely for the purpose of handing out wishes and rainbows and problem-free childhoods. We come into the job carrying the weight of our own baggage. Some loads are heavier than others.

I have been accused of thinking I'm perfect, usually in response to correcting one of my children or when using my own experiences to teach life lessons. I have never once thought I was perfect. I am actually quite hard on myself, always wishing I had done one thing or another differently and being painfully aware of my shortcomings.

I have always loved my children, even in moments when I didn't like them very much. But even mothers are allowed to hold their children accountable for their own actions and choices. Actually, I'm pretty sure that's one of the most important aspects of the job.

God made me, loves me, and gave me the same human emotions He gave every other person He ever created. Becoming a mother didn't remove my ability to feel pain. A mother's heart doesn't just break when her children suffer; sometimes our hearts break when our children inflict suffering on us.

I try my best to observe the Golden Rule---to treat others as I would like to be treated---but in my humanity I sometimes fail. As a mother, I have an obligation to do my best to raise the children with whom I've been entrusted so that they will hopefully become kind, responsible, mature adults. Almost no one gets through childhood without a few bumps and bruises. Parents receive on-the-job training. Children don't come with instruction manuals, probably because no two children are exactly the same.  Most parents do the best they can with what they know, what they've experienced, and what they think each child needs.

Life isn't perfect.  Not for children, not for parents. We can take our childhood experiences and learn from them, or we can use them as weapons against those who raised us. Only one of those choices will make you a better person. The choices you make as an adult are what define you. You alone are responsible for what you make of the life you were given, even if you feel you deserved more. 

Never Alone

Have you ever felt alone?  I think we all have at one time or another, even when surrounded by people.  Sometimes I think that's when we feel it most.  Right now I feel completely forgotten, hurt, unloved...very much alone.

But we will never be abandoned by God.  He cares.  He's there for us, day or night, every single day.

Other people will let us down.  And we will disappoint others.  But that's because we're all human and imperfect.

God is perfect.  And no matter how much or how often we fail, God won't fail us. Maybe He won't give us what we want, but He'll carry us through anything we face. All we have to do is ask.

Birthday Card Money Holder

My granddaughter needed a last-minute gift for a friend (do children ever plan in advance?), so we ended up with that most personal of all gifts---cash.  Luckily, most children are perfectly okay with receiving money to buy something they really want.  I love those kids.

I thought it would be nice to at least make a card to hold the money, so I had my granddaughter choose paper and the sentiment. I had recently purchased a cool die from Papertrey Ink, the Zipper Border Die, and thought this would be a good opportunity to try it out.

The card base was made from a piece of cardstock folded into a matchbook shape. I figured out the height and width I wanted, and cut it after doubling the height (for a top-fold card) and adding a couple of inches to fold up across the bottom.  

The "happy birthday" sentiment is from the Cricut cartridge Martha Stewart Birthday Cake Art. I cut a decorative border across the bottom using a Fiskars border punch, which I then backed with a small strip of white cardstock.  I used my Martha Stewart Custom Stamp Setting Kit to create the "pull" stamp for the tab area of the tear strip.  

After I assembled the card elements I had my granddaughter write a message inside.  I enclosed the cash, then used my ATG gun to seal it up so that the money could only be accessed by pulling the tear strip.

I never heard, "You ruined my life!" after my granddaughter returned home, so I can only assume everything functioned as expected.

Thanks for stopping by!

Waiting

I'm sitting here at 11:30 p.m. on a Saturday night wondering how I got here. I'm waiting on my two granddaughters to return home from their evening activities, and the earliest I can expect either of them is 1 a.m. My husband just went to bed after I finally convinced him that since I can't possibly fall asleep until both girls have made it safely home, there is no reason we should both be sleep-deprived.

Where are my golden years? 

I love these two girls more than life itself. But I'm watching my life slip away. It seems I'm always playing a waiting game--waiting for someone to need a ride, waiting for someone to get home at night, waiting, waiting, always waiting. But time doesn't wait for me. I'm not getting any younger.

I need peace. I need rest. I need a few good years to reconnect with my husband after decades of endless childraising. 

But time is almost up.

I'm more exhausted than ever. I haven't slept all week. I won't get enough sleep again tonight. And the only times my husband and I spent together all week included one or both granddaughters.

I'm waiting on a break.  And a little of the life I worked hard to achieve.

I find myself frequently telling the girls that life isn't fair. That no matter what we do that is good and responsible and kind and ethical, we will sometimes watch others who didn't do the right thing receive what we feel we deserve. It's simply part of life in a sinful world. We can't let it change who we are. The truth is, we might never see our reward until we get to spend eternity with God.

But the waiting isn't easy.

Beach-themed Mason Jar Candle

I found an adorable beach-themed mason jar candle on Pinterest, and since I'll probably never achieve my dream of actually living at the beach, I decided the next-best thing was a candle reminiscent of a sandy beach covered in seashells.

Okay, that isn't quite true.  This project will never replace the soothing sounds of ocean waves, or the peaceful, shoreline view of water meeting sky.  But it will have to suffice for now.  And it is cute if I do say so myself.

The original design can be found here.

Even though the project was titled "Mason Jar Candle Holder for a Beach Wedding", I have neither a wedding nor beach trip planned any time soon, so I'll call my project "Beach-themed Candle to Soothe the Soul and Guilty Conscience of a Stressed-out Grand/mother Who Needs to Use Some of Her Massive Craft Hoard".

On second thought, I'll just call it "Beach-themed Mason Jar Candle".

I started by using blue craft paint to color the outside of a clean, empty spaghetti jar.  After the paint had dried, I made a candle inside the jar (as you can see, I clearly needed more wax to actually fill the jar). While I waited for the candle to harden, I colored some Diamond Dust with Adirondack Alcohol Ink to give it the appearance of sand.  When the candle was ready, I brushed a coat of Mod Podge around the bottom couple of inches of the jar, then coated it with the Diamond Dust.  After everything had dried, I sprayed a few coats of clear sealant over the entire jar.  While waiting for the sealant to dry, I used my glue gun, clear glue sticks, and silicone molds to create the shells, sand dollar and starfish, which I painted with a variety of acrylic craft paints for a more natural appearance. The final steps were to tie jute rope around the top of the jar and attach the shells to the jar using my glue gun.

Have you been "Pin"spired lately? What did you make?  And how did we survive before Pinterest???

Cupcake Birthday Card

This simple birthday card was made using a cupcake from the Cricut cartridge Simply Charmed. I added a few shiny heart-shaped "sprinkles", then finished with a little glitter glue on the candle flame.

Thanks for stopping by!

Octopus Birthday Card

Once again I'm waiting for my creative juices to flow or my energy level to rise. It could be a while. Until then, I thought I'd share a card I made last year but never posted.

This little octopus is from the Cricut cartridge Birthday Bash, which is one of my favorites. I also cut a flag from the same cartridge, then stamped it with a birthday sentiment.

I have to say the little guy appears to be struggling--or juggling.  Either way, I admire his tenacity.

Thanks for visiting!

Powerful

Sometimes in life we can be hurt in ways that threaten to consume us. Even time seems incapable of healing those hurts.

I've been dealing with just such a circumstance. Today I felt completely powerless. I couldn't move past the excruciating pain deep within my soul. And for some reason, maybe because I couldn't see past my anger at the injustice of it all, God seemed so very far away.  And I honestly wasn't spending much of my effort seeking His presence.

But now it's quiet, everyone is in bed, and this day's particular trials are behind me. And I can finally feel God's love and care. Tomorrow might be just as difficult as today, but I pray for the wisdom to seek the power I need before I reach the point of hopelessness and despair.

Thank you, God, for your grace and mercy, and for loving a sinner like me.

Dangers at Home

My dog tried to kill me tonight.

I'm not sure he acted alone. It could have been a murder conspiracy. There's always somebody mad at me for something, and any one of them could have put him up to it.

After spending hours trying to find the reason my IPad photo stream isn't working (instead of sleeping like normal people do at 1 a.m.), I needed to get up from the sofa and visit the ladies' room. The light was off, and I guess the dog thought it would be fun to lay on the floor behind the ottoman where I couldn't see him. I put on my slippers, walked around the ottoman, and...

SPLAT!

I have no idea how he managed to conceal himself so thoroughly. He's large, old, breathes heavily, and makes random grunting noises. (Actually, that entire description sounds a lot like me.) However it happened, I face planted on the tile floor, smacked one knee really hard, jammed toes on both feet, and bruised my hand. And the only thing I was drinking was water.

Not one soul came downstairs to check out the commotion.

If I do finally sleep tonight, I'll do it with one eye open.

Upward Falling

Today I found myself teetering on the brink of sanity, wondering how I could go on or if I even should.  And once again, I found God waiting to pull me back into His loving embrace.

The world can be a cruel place.  Sometimes even those we love hurt us more than we can bear.

It's during those times of extreme anguish that God's presence is often most evident.  Lately, I find myself ending each day simply praying for the strength to make it until morning.  And in those moments, I feel God's love and know He will get me through.  I certainly can't do it on my own.

The past couple of decades have brought heartache into my life, accompanied by anxiety, fear, grief, anger, frustration, depression and an overwhelming lack of self-worth.  But I have never before felt this close to God.  The circumstances of life have been difficult, but I find peace in knowing the pain has taken me exactly where I need to be.

Mothers are People, Too

We weren't always mothers. Our lives didn't begin when we had children. Once upon a time we had dreams. We were people who didn't yet spend our days cooking, cleaning endlessly, kissing boo-boos, peeing with the door open, handing out discipline, handing out snacks, wiping tears, loving with everything we had, and crying ourselves to sleep because we never felt good enough.

Once we were children ourselves. Our lives weren't always perfect. But we moved forward, determined to fulfill our dreams of Prince Charming, a castle (or just a house with a white picket fence in Suburbia), and children who would fill our lives with joy.

Those of us fortunate enough to be blessed with everything we ever wanted try to be the best mothers we can possibly be. But The Perfect Mother doesn't exist. There are horrible mothers, really good mothers, and somewhere in the middle the rest of us live, just doing our best every day with the tools we have and the burdens we bear.

And that's all any mother can do.

What Really Matters

Today was going to be a productive day. I was finally going to get a jump on all those crafting projects I had collected in my mind (and on Pinterest). Of course I first had to do laundry. (I didn't want to completely lose the procrastination skills I had spent years honing, so I decided to blow off cleaning my bathroom.)

As usual, the girls had presented their laundry baskets late and in sloppy condition. Instead of getting better at preparing their dirty laundry, they now seem to take for granted that Nana will unknot their clothes and turn them right-side-out. 

And I did.

I've been suffering symptoms that lead me to believe my blood pressure is much higher than is safe, so I'm trying to pick my battles. This wasn't going to be one of them. It was too early in the day.

So I calmly reminded them that I expected them to do better next week or I would not wash their clothes, nor would I allow them to do their own laundry unless they paid for the use of excess water and electricity. (This was because I knew they wouldn't wash full loads, but would instead wash only what they wanted that day. I've lived long enough to know how most kids operate.)

The Princess decided to apprise me of The Law. "I'm pretty sure that isn't legal", she informed me. "You can't make us wear dirty clothes". She's 17, knows everything, and feels it's her job to share her vast wealth of knowledge with her grandpa and me.

I kept calm and carried on.

Later, inspiration struck. Instead of neatly folding her clean clothes as I always do, I haphazardly tossed them into her laundry basket. They were clean, and I'm pretty sure that's the extent of my legal obligation.

In the evening she returned home from picking up her boyfriend for a visit, and seeing her laundry basket heaped with rumpled clothes she asked if I was indeed not going to wash them. "They're clean", I said, "I just didn't fold them. I'm pretty sure that's legal". She wasn't amused.  Actually, she proceeded to act like a two-year-old. And I'm fresh off a visit with one, so I know exactly what a toddler meltdown looks like.

But it gets better.

It was now dinner time and I had just washed a sink full of dirty dishes that had appeared out of thin air, just like magic. My hands were still a little wet when I pulled out a baking sheet and started to set it on the stove. It slipped and dropped a few inches onto the edge of the glass cooktop. 

Crunch. 

Yeah, I broke the stovetop.  And no, it isn't in my budget to buy a new one.

Through my tears (and some profanities) I reached into the refrigerator to get a few things. After all, the show must go on.

For the past few days, I've noticed the vegetable and fruit drawers had been making a grinding sound when I opened them. I figured now was the time to get at least one of my appliances in good working order, so I removed the first drawer completely and found the problem...

There was a giant sheet of ice covering the bottom of the refrigerator.

When it rains it pours. And then it freezes up.

I was feeling pretty despondent at that point. Then my phone rang.

The details of the call aren't important to the story, but suffice it to say I was facing a real potential tragedy. And it scared me straight. 

There is nothing material on this earth that matters in the grand scheme of things. God blesses us with people to love and, if we're really lucky, people who love us back. If we're fortunate enough to have them in our lives for many years, and they are healthy and safe and hopefully also happy, that's really the only thing that matters.

Thank you, God, for blessing me today.

Giraffe Birthday Card

I've whined enough lately.  God has been very good to me over the years and He continues to forgive me EVERY SINGLE DAY. (I'll need that today more than ever.) So back to crafting...

Well, actually this is a card I made a very long time ago.  But I haven't felt like making anything lately (it's hard to make stuff while throwing a pity party), so I dragged this out of my "archives".

It's definitely a little on the bright side, possibly bordering on painful-to-look-at. But for my sister, Teresa, the brighter the better.  She's in a persistent vegetative state, and I'm pretty sure the doctors told us early on that she was blind.  But I'm not convinced of that, so a bright, colorful card seemed like the way to go.

The giraffe was cut from the Cricut cartridge Paisley (Teresa loves giraffes).  The solid background was cut using a Spellbinders Nestabilities die.  

Overall, nothing to get excited about. Unless you consider that I actually made something. Yes, it was a year ago, but I did make something once upon a time.

Indentured Servitude

Yesterday was unbearable.

My younger granddaughter, Chatty Cathy, was talking about getting back on her normal sleep cycle now that school is back in session.  She compared her summer to my everyday life.  "Nana, I sleep all day because there's nothing to do.  Not to offend you, but that must be how you feel every day with no purpose in life and no reason to get out of bed."

Yep.  That sums it up.

Unless you consider what I am required to accomplish each day:  feeding the family.

My oldest granddaughter, The Princess, came home a short time later in a grumpy mood.  I asked about her day and got a grunt.  Okay, I won't ask.  She did muster the strength to ask me what we were having for dinner.  "You probably won't like the answer", I said.  "We're having Chef's Salad."

"Oh, goodie", she smarmed.  (I don't know if that qualifies as a word, but it's the only way to describe the way she spoke to me.)

"You can blame your grandfather", I replied.  "It was his idea".

"I'll just eat the eggs", was her solution.

"I had no plans to cook eggs", I said, "and even if I did, you can't just eat eggs".

Anyway, from there it devolved into an argument about how a salad can't be a Chef's salad without egg, how I don't care what her definition of a Chef's salad is, how I'm sick of hearing complaints EVERY SINGLE NIGHT from one person or another, and that the cook is the only person who never gets her preferences for dinner.  I think at some point I yelled in frustration, she made a comment that implied I was crazy for going off, I said something about how seemingly small things take a toll after 37 years of dealing with them, she chuckled at the crazy lady and made a hateful comment, and I went to find the wine.

Oh, and my daughter, who gave birth to these children, received a gift in my mail from Chatty Cathy's grandmother (as a reward for giving birth, I suppose, since my husband and I are doing everything else).  It isn't the first "token of appreciation" she's received at my house, either.  I guess things are sent here to stick it to me for having the gall to financially, physically, and emotionally support her precious granddaughter at the expense of my golden years and my mental health.

Just this past weekend, my husband and I took the family out to dinner to celebrate The Princess's birthday.  Chatty Cathy asked me to take a photo with her (nothing warms an old lady's heart like having her granddaughter want to take a photo with her, even when the old lady hates having her picture taken).  She then posted the picture on social media.  Probably before we even finished dinner, Granny had reposted the photo after cropping me out!!!

Take your own photos, lady.  Oh, I guess that's hard when you only ask to see your granddaughter twice a year.  Then whine on Facebook about how you miss her so much it hurts your heart, and allow others to comment without correction that it's a shame she isn't allowed to spend more time with her.  (I've written about this before.)

Long story even longer, I told my husband this morning that I needed to resign my position.  I simply can't take it any more.

"Too bad that's not an option", was all he could say.

It's official.  I'm an indentured servant.  And I'm not sure what I got out of the deal.  Unless you count insanity.

Insignificance (And Other Realities of Motherhood)

Today was The Princess's 17th birthday.  My husband and I worked hard over the past week or two trying to determine which gifts to buy, and I spent every spare moment when she wasn't around making a special birthday card for her. I also purchased needed supplies to make her birthday cake (until she notified me late last night that she had changed her mind and wanted something different). This evening we took her, her boyfriend, and her sister out to dinner, where we were met by her mother.  Afterwards, I came home and hung streamers  to make the house a little more festive (because she had indicated at dinner that that was important to her). Of course I had spent the rest of the day doing laundry for her and her sister, Chatty Cathy, washing their dirty dishes, and other mind-numbing tasks only a custodial parent or grand/parent can understand.

After the cake had been eaten and presents opened, she wanted to take a picture with the Polaroid film we had bought for her birthday. I heard her rounding up her boyfriend, sister and mother. "Nana!" She called out, "I need you!"  Naively thinking she wanted to include me in the photo, I headed in the direction she indicated.  "Here", she said, handling me the camera.  "Take this picture of us."  I sucked my disappointment and hurt down into the deep recesses of my Mom-soul where all the rest of my pain lives, and I took the picture. 

So my husband and I, her sole caregivers and financial providers, don't measure up enough to be included in the family photo. At least I wasn't alone.

A short time later, I looked up from my clean-up duties just in time to see her having a picture taken with my husband, arms around each other and with beaming smiles.

I was now completely alone in my insignificance. Gut-wrenching.

I've been called every unholy name in the book because I've been charged with the task of turning her from a childish, self-centered, impulsive teen into (hopefully) a responsible, thoughtful, mature young woman. Not an easy task under the best of circumstances, and not one that makes you especially popular with children who think they know everything and are convinced that you are just an old fool who can't possibly relate to a world which no longer includes dinosaurs.

A little while later she walked into the room where I was trying to relax with my husband, and pulled out the two photos. "Aren't these so cute??!!" she asked.  Looking at the photos that included all the members of our family except me, I replied "Yes, they're adorable!"

I can cry later.

Just Be Held

"You're not alone, stop holding on and just be held." - Casting Crowns, Just Be Held

Sometimes God sends me exactly what I need to hear when I need to hear it.  Today was an especially troublesome day, and I tried my best to make it better.  But I couldn't.  And I forgot to ask for help in the one place I can always find it.

If, like me, you often feel you simply don't have the strength to keep going, I hope you'll find hope and comfort in this beautiful song.  Find your rest in the arms of the God who won't let go.  He's there for you.  Anytime. Anywhere. Always.

Happy 12th Birthday Card for a Girl

My granddaughter just turned 13.  No, that isn't a typo, and I didn't make a mistake on the card.  This was her birthday card last year.  Yes, I'm a year late in sharing.  But I was desperately looking for something to post other than another sad story about life, disappointment and depression.  And I found this...something I actually made with  my own two hands.

The girl is from the Cricut cartridge Paper Dolls Teen Scene.  This is one of those cartridges I knew I had to have but rarely find an excuse to use. Looking at the card now, I think I subconsciously dressed the girl very much like I would have dressed at the same age, circa 1970.  Nostalgia.

Thanks for visiting!

Life is Exhausting

I'm praying for God to do some serious work on me right now.  The devil has been working overtime.
 
I'm ashamed to admit I've let my frustrations show where my grand/daughters are concerned.  I do think they need to learn that their actions aren't without consequences and that there are responsibilities in life.  But some days my irritation shows before they've even fully entered a room.

In my defense, they are dirty little creatures, and fully capable of cleaning up after themselves.  But they don't.  And I'm overwhelmed.

Raising kids without abundant financial resources is exhausting.  Trying to prepare a large home for future downsizing after 25 years is exhausting.  Doing laundry and cleaning for two teenage girls is exhausting.  Dealing with teenage drama is exhausting.  Having teenage girls argue against everything you say is exhausting.

Getting out of bed...exhausting.

But God gave me a task, so He must have thought I could do it.  With lots of help from Him, I'm trying my hardest.

So many outside forces are taking away my joy.  If I could lock myself inside my crumbling home and never face the selfishness, judgment, and anger of others, I think I could breeze right through. But I can't. Life just doesn't work that way.  So with a lot of prayer, I'm trying my best to cope. Knowing God is in control is sometimes all that keeps me going.

Even in the midst of days that seem to consume my very being, I thank God for loving me, a flawed woman who wakes up every day begging for forgiveness and a fresh start.

Airplane Themed Travel Card

My oldest granddaughter was going on her first international mission trip with the youth group from our church, so I thought the least I could do was make a card to let her know I would be thinking of her and praying that she would have a wonderful experience.  

The airplane was cut from the Cricut cartridge Pack Your Bags.  I also used travel-themed background paper and a sentiment I found in my ever-growing collection of papercrafting items.

I'm beginning to accept that God didn't place me here to do great things.  But as I watch my granddaughters grow into loving, caring Christian women, I'm pretty sure I know why I'm here.

View From the End of My Rope

I thought I could do it.  I thought, with much help from God, I could survive the remaining 9+ years.

I'm pretty sure I can't.

The hardest part is having no one to talk to.  If I try to talk to my husband, we usually end up in a screaming match.  On the rare occasions I find myself having a conversation with anyone else, I don't really feel I can just blurt out, "Help me...I"m drowning!!!" And no one ever seems to notice.

Life is hard.

We've spent the past 16 years raising our granddaughters because their parents have other things they'd rather do.  My husband and I, instead of relishing each other's company during our tarnished golden-years, are constantly fighting about how best to do this.  We've walked through hell together and come out on the other side with very different opinions of how to avoid another visit.

We now approach life in much different ways:  He ignores subtle signs of potential trouble, adopting a "wait and see" attitude, while I watch with hypervigilence to spot anything suspicious so I can stop the problem in its tracks.  Maybe we're both wrong.  Maybe there's a perfect plan somewhere in the middle.

I'm at the end of my rope.  I'm still hanging on, but it seems to be slipping from my grasp.

Nautical-Themed Masculine Birthday Card

I'm always desperately searching for masculine card ideas.  I saw a cute nautical-themed card on Pinterest and decided to make my own version for my husband's birthday card.

I cut the ship's wheel and anchor using the Cricut cartridge Splish Splash.  Map-print paper was used as the base for this card and I added a strip of corrugated paper to "anchor" the nautical embellishments.  I cut a banner shape from thin cork, then attached the ship's wheel using a silver brad.  The anchor was attached to the corrugated strip with jute rope.   I used a Spellbinders Nestabilities die set to cut the rectangles for the sentiment. 

Thanks for visiting!

Teenagers (Need I Say More?)

Life just doesn't seem to get any easier.

I don't really need to go into specifics.  If you have children you know what I mean.  And if you say your teenagers never give you trouble, you're either lying to me or lying to yourself.

I'm not talking about big problems, like drugs or criminal behavior.  I just mean that every kid ever born will refuse to do something they're supposed to do, or they'll try to get away with something they know they shouldn't do.  It's just the nature of the beast.  And have you ever met a teenager who didn't think they were smarter than the idiots who are raising them?

For 25 years I've been raising one teenager or another.  I've heard it all.  The excuses.  The half-truths.  The outright lies.  The blame.

Oh, dear God, the blame.

Today I was trying to address an issue with my 16-year-old granddaughter.  I thought I'd try something a little different since my attempts to hand down "consequences" weren't working.  I decided to ask her what she thought her punishment should be, not because I had any intention of allowing her to dictate the consequences of her own wrong behavior but rather to make her feel like she's part of the process.  I would still be the final authority, but I figured maybe if she felt "heard" by me she would be a little more compliant.

How wrong I was.

It began with her saying she didn't think she should be punished at all.  Then she started with the excuses.  I tried to calmly explain why I felt the excuses weren't really reasons, and why she needed consequences to prevent this behavior from recurring repeatedly.  Pretty soon we were both raising our voices.  Then I was yelling.

Then it was all my fault.

I punish her for everything.  I yell all the time.  My life sucks.  (That one is true.)  I don't praise her when she does something right.  I don't listen to her.  And it went on from there.

I've been hearing about my lack of praise and my constant criticism for years. Nothing anyone does is ever good enough for me, the Queen of High Standards.  I can't prove otherwise because I don't have decades of voice recordings backing me up.  Besides, it all comes down to perception anyway.
 
I'm not perfect.  I wish I'd had a higher sense of self-worth so that I could have raised children with endless amounts of confidence and self-esteem.  I regret any time I ever said anything that hurt my children.  But I'm human.  I came into this job with lots of baggage and my own hurt feelings.  I'm tired.  I'm stressed.  I'm old.  I've been doing this job for a very long time. And I could use a break.

But I won't get one.  Not until the younger granddaughter becomes an adult nearly a decade from now.

If I live that long.