Out Of The Blue

I got to spend the weekend with my daughter (Liz), my son (Tom) and his wife (Laura), and my best friend Linda (best buds for 31 years!).  It was our annual scrapping weekend and this year my son joined us! 

On Saturday we made a large work area in the dining room and each claimed a spot to work on our project:  Liz & I - greeting cards, Linda - scrapbook pages, Tom and Laura - school projects (they are teachers).  We played games Saturday night and laughed nonstop for 4 hours.  We were laughing so hard we were crying and our ribs hurt by the time we went to bed. Sunday we went to church and had lunch together before everyone left for home about 1:00.  

It was a wonderful weekend.  I loved the chance to spend time with my kids and my best friend.  There were more blessings in those two days spent together than I could even begin to write about. 

So imagine my surprise when I found myself feeling blue on Sunday after everyone was gone.  Michael was out taking pictures so it was just me and our two dogs.  They were exhausted from all the activity and were curled up on the sectional on their blankets... fast asleep.  

I really couldn't put my finger on why I was feeling melancholy.  I never like feeling down, but it really drives me nuts when I don't know the cause. It's like trying to nail Jell-O to the wall.  As hard as I might try to think of a reason for this sudden case of the blues, the reason seemed to be elusive. 

Maybe it was the mild headache I had.

Maybe it was because I was tired.  

Maybe the house just seemed too quiet after having all the activity for 48 hours.  

Maybe it's because my chai level was low.

Maybe it's because having my kids here reminded me of when they were young and I was feeling the passage of time that I typically embrace with grace.  

Maybe it's because I'm in midlife.

Maybe it's because I was just due for a good cry. 

Maybe it's because the weekend had come and gone so quickly.

Maybe it's because even though I often tell the kids I love them, sometimes I wonder if they really know how much.

Maybe it's because I missed my husband. 

Maybe it's because in the presence of my kids I felt even more the absence of my own parents.  

Maybe it's everything.

Maybe it's nothing.

 I usually don't write blog posts like this as I try to keep things encouraging, uplifting, and humorous.  

But sometimes the best I can do is say, "Life is not perfect, I have those moments too."

Sometimes being real is the best thing I have to offer you.  

That and a hug.

My Stepdaughter

My stepdaughter, Lindsay, turned 38 this past weekend.  Nothing like outing her right off the bat is there?   Eh, 38 is young and I really don't think she will mind.   

I love and admire Lindsay a lot.  She has amazing faith and she and her husband work hard to instill that same faith in their children as well.  She has been through some tough times, but even then was able to turn something difficult into a blessing and come out of it even stronger. She is an inspiration to everyone who knows her.

I am so blessed to be a stepmom.  I have been able to forge friendships with both of my stepkids and am very thankful for the love and acceptance they have shown me.  

 While I tell Lindsay I love her, I don't always take the time to tell her how much I admire her and respect her.  I can take no credit for the woman she has become, but I can share in being proud of her. 

So Lindsay, thank you for being part of my life and being such an inspiration to me.  I couldn't have been blessed with a more thoughtful stepdaughter.  I'm anxious to see what the next year holds for you, but am confident it will involve an abundance of love and blessings.

Love,

Barb

You Are My Sunshine...

I love to sing, but I don't sing well. I was in chorus in school and sang alto. When surrounded by a lot of other good singers I could blend in well enough, but on my own... not so much.  I decided that's exactly the voice God gave me so I need to embrace it.  

When it is just Michael and I around I belt out silly little songs I have made up.  The only songs I truly know well enough to sing by heart are "Oh Canada!" (chalk that one up to hockey games) and of course The Star Spangled Banner (which is difficult to sing, sorry Francis Scott Key)... so I opt for Canada's national anthem when I want to sing something.   

A few years ago I asked Michael to sing a song to me.  His choice?  "You Are My Sunshine", because it is the only song he knows enough words to be able to sing. Michael's singing voice is as "awesome" as mine.  I loved every word of that badly sung song, because he was putting his all into it and it was so heartfelt. 

So now we often sing "You Are My Sunshine" to each other.  It's kind of "our" song and our motto.  In fact, he got me a picture frame for Christmas that says, "You are my sunshine..."  and I would love to get those words in vinyl wall lettering for our bedroom.

The other morning it was about 6:30 and Michael was making his lunch before leaving for work.   Because I felt he needed to be entertained while doing this, I started pantomiming the words to "You Are My Sunshine."  I may have a 52-year-old body, but I have a little child living in me that won't vacate the premises, resulting in these moments.  

Michael started laughing and wasn't getting too far on his lunch.  With an appreciative audience I put my all into it.  

Then I got to this line, "You'll never know dear...."

Here's how I did it:

You'll  - (pointed at Michael)

never  - (shaking my index finger back and forth)

know  - (shaking my head "no")

(and here's where it got even funnier)

dear - I did this:

I couldn't help it, I started laughing.  Michael's lunch was a forgotten chore at that point as he was laughing even harder. I did the above again, pleased with my creativity at 6:30 in the morning, and said,  "You know what that was, don't you?"  - thinking it was pretty obvious, especially when he knew the words to the song.

He said, "Yeah, 'no'!"

I started laughing even harder and said, "NOOO!!!  That was 'deer'!"

... and of course I turned my back to him, put my hands on my head for antlers, and turned to face him again... 

"See, Deer!"

We both started cracking up again.  Some days I am really happy that the only witnesses to the goofiness in our house, two basset hounds, are unable to speak and can keep such great secrets. 

I told Michael everyone knows that motion is a deer!  

I had to look online to see if searching for "hands on head for antlers"  came up with anything similar to the motion I did... and I found the above picture.  And sure enough, it is the international sign language for deer!  

(Because this is an educational blog - moose is hands spread even wider apart to indicate "bigger".) 

I hope I never stop being silly.

Life is short, so enjoy every silly second. 

Finding That Little Something

I love our kitchen.  It is perfect for me.   It's where our kids and grandkids tend to gather when we get together - it's where conversations happen and where we enjoy good food.  

Kitchens hold a special place in my heart.  When I was growing up my Mom and I spent a lot of Saturdays in the kitchen together baking.  We made brownies, cinnamon rolls, breads, pies, bars, cookies..... and memories.  

Almost 2 years ago Michael and I did some upgrades to our kitchen with a new countertop, sink, faucet, and roll-out shelves for our pantry.  However, even with the upgrades it still felt as if something was missing.  I have had trouble figuring out what it was.  Was it paint?  Was it something different on the walls?  Was it something different on the countertop?  Figuring out what was missing was stumping me. 

The last few visits my Mom and Dad made to see us at our home my Mom would bring small things with her:  a plate, a creamer, a pot for plants, and over several visits what added up to a handful of her handwritten recipes.  I put the glass items on a plate rack,  tucked the recipes into my recipe book, and didn't think much more about them. 

Then I spotted an idea on Pinterest and it was one of those "aha" moments.  It all came together.

I mounted 3 of my Mom's handwritten recipes on a piece of scrapbook paper that accented our kitchen perfectly, placed them in 5 x 7 frames, and hung them in the kitchen.  

It is just that little something I was looking for!

I hung my Mom's old metal measuring cups by this recipe.

While the recipes are small in size, they bring back such big memories for me and I love seeing Mom's handwriting.

They add color to the kitchen, but more importantly, they are like a big hug.

These recipes are not in pristine shape.  They were used often and show it and they have yellowed a bit with age, but that only makes them even more special.  
I finally found that something the kitchen was missing.  It wasn't paint, different things on the counter, or even "stuff" on the walls. 

In a room that I equate so much with my Mom, she was what was missing. Never underestimate the meaning that small things, like a handwritten recipe card, can hold for someone.  I'm glad Mom had the foresight to bring me those recipes.      

Our kitchen now feels complete.  

Mom is once again back in the kitchen with me.    

2013 In Review

As 2013 is about to come to a close it is fun to look back to see what big and little joys the year brought us.  


Seeing a bald eagle up close, with wings spread wide!

Having our oldest grandchildren, Jacob & Abigail,  for a weekend of shopping and fun (March Madness)!

Making dark chocolate truffles for the first time.

Hearing Mason say "Grandma Bob," then "Grandma Barf," and now "Grandma Barb."

Having our daughter-in-law, Laura,  get her elementary education degree and getting her first teaching job!

Block Parties.  

All our kids and grandkids being home for our family get-together in June. 

Call me crazy, but I love this picture!  Talk about a photo screaming personality! 
(or in some cases just plain screaming)

The Girls Scrapbooking Weekend.

Michael's son, Tyler, getting his first college coaching job - a move that brought them closer to us.

My daughter, Elizabeth, starting nursing school - pursuing a dream she has had for quite a few years. 

Taking part in my first Komen event and losing a dear co-worker, Melinda, to cancer the following day. Losing her was hard, but knowing her was a blessing.

"Boppa" (which in Morganese is Grandma and Grandpa).

Being the security person for my favorite artist, Mark Schultz (still reveling in this one - Thank you Lindsay!)

Vacationing in Duluth and spending some time there with my  brother, Steve, and sister-in-law, Pat, making great memories!

Being called "Grandma."

Attending Iowa Wild hockey games.

Collecting items for the Art Cart at the hospital - a neighborhood project! 

Returning to church, becoming members, and getting involved.  

My son, Tom, obtaining his elementary education degree just a few weeks ago and now ready to teach as well!

Finnley and Elliot walking up to me with their arms up, wanting me to pick them up.  



It was a wonderful year. 

Done In By Fudge

Last week I blogged about how I zipped through the anniversary of my Mom's death and what would have been her birthday without that overwhelming feeling of sadness that hits hardest at this time of year and can stop me in my tracks.  

Last weekend one of my brothers e-mailed and asked for our mom's fudge recipe.  My mom loved fudge and made it throughout the year.  Her fudge was his favorite Christmas sweet, the one he looked forward to the most,  and he wanted to make it.

So I sent the recipe to him along with the directions and didn't think anything more of it.  Then on Monday I received an e-mail from him: 
"The fudge did not set up. What did I do wrong?"  

I had to smile - at the end of his e-mail he said:
 "I asked Mom, but she did not answer."   

I could just see him looking at the fudge and saying:
"Okay Mom, what did I do wrong?"  

So I e-mailed him and told him Mom was speaking through me and that the ingredients had likely not reached the necessary "soft ball stage" that causes fudge to set.   

I could tell my brother was disappointed.

I could so relate.  

I have made fudge several times, and as usual my impatience gets in the way of letting it reach that soft ball stage too.

He said he would try making another batch and I suggested he use a candy thermometer (something that would be helpful for me as well!).  I laughed when he e-mailed back and said:
 "Thanks Mom and Barb."

Well I may have made it through the week before, but I was done in by a pan of fudge that would not set up.   The next thing I knew I was crying, missing my mom. I missed her not being there to help with simple things like this. 

If it hadn't been the fudge it could just have easily been one of a million other things on any given day.  It's often the little things that trip me up.  Oh I wish my mom was here to see some big things in my life, like the births of 4 of our grandchildren since she passed away, but it is the little day to day things that I miss the most. 

That awesome brown glaze on carrots in her pot roast.

Picking up the phone and talking to her about everything and nothing.

Hearing her giggle uncontrollably.

Her ability to make fudge so effortlessly.  

Having her there to give advice.

Seeing her waiting at the door of my childhood home when we arrived. 

Being able to hug her.

And hearing "I love you" one more time.

Don't live for the  big moments in life.  They come and go quickly and are few and far between.

Instead look for joy in the little nooks and crannies of everyday living:  in the phone calls, the giggles, the wisdom and advice shared, the hugs, being welcomed home with open arms, and the simple "I love you."  

Trust me, the little things are the things you will miss the most, because it's not one big thing we miss about our loved ones, it's a million little things.  

Pizza, Pastries, and Paintings

Saturday we went to Pella to visit Tyler, Melissa, Mason, Finnley, and Elliot.  They are now 1-1/2 hours away rather then 3 to 3-1/2.  


We love where they live as it is a short walk to work to the campus for Tyler and they are a short distance from the downtown!  Pella has an interesting, historic downtown, with unique shops.

So we put the girls in the double stroller and headed downtown.  Mason is 2 (he will be 3 in two months), and Finnley and Elliot are 11 months old.  Having the kids outnumbered is a good thing.  Adults - 4.  Kids - 3.  

Our first stop... Pizza Ranch!  On the way there Mason asked me, "Grandma Barb do you like pizza?"  When I told him I LOVED pizza he asked Grandpa.  "Grandpa Mike, do you like pizza?"  When Grandpa Mike said he liked pizza too Mason said, "I like pizza too.  It is my favorite!"  



We all love Pizza Ranch.  What's not to love with all the varieties of pizza they offer?

Okay,  Finnley and Elliot love the salad bar.  I know, you are wondering if we were REALLY at a pizza place. 




Yep.

This is Elliot.   She was enjoying chewing on that piece of pizza!  She warmed up to us quicker than Finnley, so Elliot was the one I took pictures of on Saturday.   She has the biggest smiles!   Finnley does too, she just didn't share them quite as freely on this day.  It is hard to believe they are going to turn 1 year old this month!!

After pizza we toured downtown.  We went to a Christian bookstore, a meat locker, and a store called Funky Junque.  This was a very eclectic store with everything from antiques to vintage to modern items.



And who can visit Pella without going to at least one of the bakeries?  Not us!  I know I don't have to tell you, but Michael got some blueberry pastries.   Mason got a pastry called a Bee Hive.  It is chocolate in the shape of a bee hive with a whipped cream center.  Then the whole thing is dipped in chocolate, with the added touch of an edible bee on top.  

Mason chose this.  Here he is eating the bee off the top.... and then was done.     See my smile in this picture?   I was really thinking, "I SO want that bee hive!"  But it just isn't being a good grandma to steal your grandson's food no matter how awesomely chocolaty and whip creamy it is.  

Being a good Grandma is really hard work sometimes. This was one of those times.  

While we only saw some of the shops downtown I think my favorite was the  Christian book store/coffee shop.  Talk about a slice of heaven.  The owner and staff were so friendly and to be able to read and drink a coffee or  frappucino would be so relaxing. It was like Barnes & Noble, only this one had small town charm.  If I lived in Pella I think I would live in this store.  

We picked up some things when downtown, but our favorite souvenir of the day was a new, one-of-a-kind masterpiece painted by Mason.  This painting is now hanging on our bulletin board in the kitchen.

We love having them live closer to us.  



It makes days like Saturday possible. 


_________________

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You Can't Go Home Again

Recently we went  back to my home town.  It holds a very special place in my heart, but my favorite place of all has been the neighborhood I grew up in.  On this visit there we stopped and walked around the "old neighborhood" a bit.  

We met a boy who lives in the neighborhood now.  He was a riot!  He could tell us everything we wanted to know about the neighborhood as it is now and was very informative.    But I had to laugh, he kept saying, "You really used to live in that house?"  It just amazed him.  

I remember growing up in this neighborhood and playing with all the neighbor kids:  Kim, Nancy, Wade, Terri, Tom, Sis, David, Mike, Lori, Mark, and Shelly.  We were like a family and lived within 1-2 blocks of each other.  That's all the farther our parents had to look to find us.  Usually they could hear where we were at and didn't even need to search.  

Summer nights were spent playing Tag, Hide & Seek, Simon Says, Red Rover, Annie Annie Over, riding bikes, playing at the park, or at the swimming pool.  We used to live at the swimming pool from the day it opened after Memorial Day until the day it closed when school started.  We took swimming lessons each year so we could pass our test to allow us to go into the "deep" end. 

In the fall we raked leaves,  played in the leaf piles and had bonfires.  

In the  winter we made snowmen, had snowball fights, and went sledding. 

All it took was to hear, "Barb,  time to come home!" yelled as it was getting dark, and I would groan, say "Gotta go," and  head home.  Each of us would hear the same thing from  our parents, often at the same time, signaling the end of whatever we were doing. 

Over the years many of the neighbors have moved away.  My parents' house was sold 4 years ago.  A neighbor has passed away since then and a new family has moved in.  Another long-time neighbor is in the process of trying to sell their house.  So many changes.  The neighborhood looks the same for the most part, just a bit older, like me.  

I was blessed to have a wonderful childhood and amazing parents.  So my hometown, my neighborhood and my parents'  home are things I am very sentimental about.  I've struggled to let go of those.  I think I have let go of things little by little in the last 4 years, but this  last visit really made me see that things have changed.  The things that made home "home", like my parents, are no longer there and as hard as I try, I can't bring back my parents or reclaim my childhood.  

Thomas Wolfe wrote a book called "You Can't Go Home Again" published in 1940.  When I was walking my old neighborhood I thought of this book.  

My childhood home may have been sold.

The faces of the neighbors may be mostly unfamiliar to me now.

And if my old neighborhood friends and I got together to play any of the games mentioned above I can guarantee you one of us (or more)  would end up in the hospital with injuries. 

But I am blessed with wonderful memories.

And no one can take that away from me.

Go To Sleep Grandma Bob

A few weeks ago we went to Finnley and Elliot's baptism.  Aren't they just adorable in their baptism dresses?  This is the girls with their Aunt Lindsay.

We got to spend some time with the kids and grandkids on Saturday at Melissa's parents house.  Finn and Elliot's older brother, Mason (2), was having a blast playing with Jacob and Abigail, his older cousins.  

When Jacob and Abigail needed a break, the grandparents were up to bat to entertain Mason.  He would come up to me and say, "Go to sleep, Grandma Bob." 

First, how adorable is that???   Our neighbor Karsyn used to call me "Bob" when she was younger.  Those r's are hard to say!

Second,  nothing beats hearing your grandchildren say "grandma."

So I would lay my head down and close my eyes, pretending to sleep.  Mason would look around at  the other family members and giggle.  Then he would creep up to me and touch me to wake me up.  Sometimes after I "went to sleep" I would watch him and when he wasn't looking I would open my eyes and grab him.  He loved the game. 

Grandpa also got to play "go to sleep Grandpa" with Mason, but Grandpa ended up covered in pillows to protect himself as Mason landed on him with his whole body  to wake him up.  Mason must think Grandpa is much more durable!

Mason's magical power of telling us to go to sleep and having it work instantly was pretty awesome. 


I just wish Mason was around those nights when I can't sleep to work his magic,  


If only all it took for me to sleep was hearing "Go to sleep Grandma Bob." 

Day Maker

Since starting my new job last August  my work days are much busier and my work schedule changed in that I start and end my work day later.   

The birth of our twin granddaughters in September also changed things for one of our daughters-in-law, Melissa.  With a 2-year-old son and newborn twins you can image how her daily routine changed!

Last night I received a text from Melissa saying, "We haven't been able to chit chat like we used to.  I miss it!"

I told her I did too, so before I started working on cards here and while she was rocking the twins in Nebraska, we sent texts back and forth and got caught up a bit.  

Sometimes the simplest things mean the most.

Dinner and Dad

A couple of weeks ago we celebrated Friday by going out to eat at Hickory Park.  We got in right away as it was shortly after 5:00, but it soon got busy.  

I had ordered a hot beef sandwich (minus the bread) for my dinner.  That was one of my Dad's favorite meals.   We then ordered ice cream for dessert.  Michael had a banana split and I had a scoop of cookie crunch.

While waiting for Michael to finish his we were visiting.  People were coming and going.  A group of college kids left the table next to us and before long 2 young boys came along to take that same table, their dads  lagging a bit behind them.  I glanced  up  as someone else was following them,  slowly trying to keep up.



  I looked, saw this gentleman coming, and looked away.  Then I realized it looked like my Dad and I  immediately looked at him again.





He was still making his way down the aisle, now closer,  and I could get a better look at him.  He was about my Dad's age when he passed away. He was built like my Dad.  He had a nose similar to my Dad's nose.  And he had a baseball cap on, just like my Dad used to wear. 




In that quick glance,  as he was coming down the aisle,  he looked at me.
It felt as if my Dad was  looking at me.  There were so many similarities.  




But of course the closer he got, while the similarities were definitely there, the differences became more clear. 

I have never come across someone who resembled either of my parents so much.   I had a wide range of emotions in that short period of time, from surprise, to my heart skipping a beat, to disappointment as I realized that of course it wasn't Dad.



It was wonderful to "see" my Dad again, even briefly.   

Keeping up With Grandkids

A week ago we had our oldest grandchildren for the weekend -  Jacob (13), and Abigail (9).  We met for pizza Friday night to get the kids.

Once home that night we played Monopoly Deal.  I'm still not sure I have a good grasp of this game and the rules, but Abigail helped me out. Pretty sad when your 9-year-old granddaughter has to help you with a game and you STILL don't get it!

Then we switched to Apples to Apples - much more Grandma and Grandpa's speed!

On Saturday we went to Des Moines to the Science Center of Iowa.  The big attraction there now is "A T-Rex named Sue."  It was pretty neat to see!

and HUGE!!!

Abigail  had fun at the ball wall while Jacob sat and read about black holes.  Jacob LOVES to read.  It is fun to see him engrossed in a book.  There was a lot to see and do at the Science Center.  

Then we were off to lunch at Red Robin... (yummm).  Let's just say none of us left there even wanting to think of food for a while.  It was a dream come true for the kids - endless root beer floats... endless fries.  


(Luckily no endless stomach aches.)  

We headed to Jordan Creek where the guys made a beeline for Barnes & Noble and Abigail and I went off to get our nails done.

Abigail is  much more adventurous than me - choosing Austin-tacious Turquoise - she  even got little flowers on her thumbs.

Then it was off to girly stores:  Icing and Justice.  Grandpa and Jacob came in Justice briefly but then left  after Grandpa stated with a smile, "There is just too much girl power!"  

Abigail and I also stopped in at Barnes and Noble as she loves to read too.  She picked up the first book in the Emily Windsnap series and took books 2 and 3 from our Little Free Library.  We shopped until late afternoon.  

By then the guys were ready to call it a day so we headed back home  and  played more games Saturday night.

Sunday Abigail and I made cards - she LOVED making cards and tried some things I hadn't even thought of!  


Jacob and Grandpa watched TV and read.  Jacob may be 13, but he still loves the Cartoon Network!


Michael made tacos for lunch and we celebrated Jacob's birthday with presents, cake, and ice cream.

I had to laugh at Abigail - when looking for something in the pantry she stated the obvious (to anyone but me), "You have a lot of catsup!"  She thinks a bottle in the fridge and a spare is plenty.  It's a Forshee thing - just ask my brother Jim.  I think she counted 4 bottles in the pantry - sounds a little low to me - better add that to the grocery list. 


She also felt I had too many purses.  Oh Abigail... just you wait!

It was a fun weekend.  

It has been fun watching them grow.  I'm not sure how or when it happened, but Jacob went from being a little 4-year-old boy, to a teenager who is now taller than me.  And Abigail went from being 1 to 9 (going on 16).


I'm honored to be a part of their life.