journey

Making a pact

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This past weekend something happened that made me rather upset.

Last minute, Paul and I had our friends Cindy and Jack over. Jack wanted to make plans with Paul to go on a fly fishing trip over Easter break. The place that they want to fish is 5 hours away, very close to Cindy’s parents. Cindy and Jack were having a hard time finding a babysitter for their 5 year old son and we couldn’t help. That seemed like a no brainer fix to me. I suggested that they drop their son off with Cindy’s parents. Cindy said that her parents wouldn’t do that for them. They were still complaining about the time that they had to watch him for 2 hours. Really? That made me angry.

Then I told Cindy that my aunt wanted my daughter to sing in her only child’s wedding. She told me that my younger two children weren’t going to be invited to the wedding. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal except that the wedding is a couple of hours away. Being a part of the wedding would require a hotel room a couple of nights for the rehearsal and wedding. Another relative said that I should leave my other kids with some friends or my in-laws. My in-laws? They didn’t help out with the kids much before my mother-in-law was diagnosed with terminal cancer. How can people ask a favor and be so insensitive?? Paul offered to stay home with the youngest kids so I could take Angel to sing in the wedding. But it makes me angry!

Then it took me back to a time in my life when I needed help but found myself alone. On Angel’s 4th birthday, Matt attacked her. It took my brother and husband to pull him off of her. This event caused a chain reaction of hurt that lasted years after the actual attack took place. I decided that I didn’t want my children victimized by my brother like I was. Things were different, when my brother hurt me he was a child. When he hurt Angel, he was a grown man and she was just a little girl. For years there was a time where there was very minimal contact between Matt and my children. Because of this, my mom lost her number one caregiver, me. We also lost our number one helper, my mom.

Less than a year after Matt attacked Angel, I gave birth to my third child. I scheduled the C-section for a Friday because I didn’t have anyone to help watch the kids during the week while Paul worked. My mom stayed over the night before, then dropped the kids off at the hospital the morning that I had my third child because Matt had a doctor’s appointment. Paul and I never had the celebratory meal together. After I got home from the hospital, my mother-in-law helped for one day then I was on my own less than a week after having major surgery with my three little kids.

In response to everything that happened, I decided to solve my problems by starting up a babysitting co-op. It worked great. We exchanged points for child care instead of money. We had monthly play groups. I developed close friends that for some reason or other found it hard to get the support that they needed as a parent.

I wish that there was a flow chart with parenting solutions sometimes. If your child does this, you do that. Every parenting class that I have ever attended was always filled with controversy. To spank or not to spank? Work or stay at home? Breast or bottle? Private, public, or home school? One child wins or everybody wins? Vaccinate or not to vaccinate? Yada, yada, yada… I am sure it wouldn’t take too long to find a blog where someone is fighting over these issues. Nobody seems to have the answers. 
Having your first child is such a major shock. I find it funny when women seem worried about childbirth. I was the same way. Seriously, you should be more worried about the next 18 years! Suddenly you are thrown into parenting without any idea what you are doing. Having a second child is also a shock. Yes, I was one of those people that thought it wouldn’t change my life at all. I also thought that my kids wouldn’t fight. That expectation got shattered pretty fast. I also thought that if I did the best job that I could possibly do that my kids wouldn’t rebel or make the wrong choices. Boy am I still learning! Having a third child was no adjustment at all. Wait, did I have a third child? I think so, except I did not document the first time she started to crawl, the first word she said, or the first time she spit up like I did with my first child.

Grandparents, why does our culture sometimes treat you like you are outdated and worthless? What a lie! You are a wealth of knowledge. You have the experience that some of us are learning through trial and error at the expense of our children. For all of the grandparents out there who are helping out their children some way or another, thank you. God bless you for making this world a better place. You are needed. You are appreciated. Parents, if you have parents that are wonderful grandparents, show them your gratitude. I know many parents that would do almost anything to have a little guidance.

This past weekend Paul suggested that we (Paul, Cindy, Jack, and I) make a pact to be good grandparents. The four of us promised that we would be there for our children when they have children of their own. We promised to be supportive, offer advice if asked, and to take our grandchildren for a few days to give their parents a break. We will take the wrongs and make them right.

This is our pact.

Grace uncommon, part 8

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Aunt Grace was way ahead of her times. Aunt Grace was the Vice President of the local bank.

Aunt Grace earned what would be equivalent of an Associate Degree in Business in a time when most young ladies like my grandma only received an 8th grade education. She loved money and finance. She was most likely the richest woman in our small town. But she was never greedy. There once was a bank employee whose husband left her with several kids at home. One day an anonymous letter arrived at the bank with money in it for that woman. We all knew it was Aunt Grace because that was the kind of thing she would do. Another family had a tragedy where their house burned down. Aunt Grace took the children shopping to buy them new winter coats and clothes.

When it was our birthday, she would give us $50 in an envelope marked love always, Aunt Grace. At Halloween, she didn’t give out candy. She gave out rolls of nickels and dimes. At Christmas, we all received $10 worth of McDonald’s gift cards. If she ever gave someone a gift, she would wrap it in the comics section of the newspaper. Grace herself was a miser, it was sad to see how destitute she lived when she could afford to take better care of herself. Her washer didn’t wring out her clothes and her dryer took 2 hours to dry a load of clothes. Her clothes were old and worn. I didn’t find out how cheap she lived until I stayed with her at the end.

Grace worked as a bookkeeper for the family business. She also worked at the local bank. When I was a young girl, she was the VP of the bank. She would give me suckers and take me into her private office. She was so excited, she wanted to be President of the bank but women just didn’t do that in her day. Everybody knew her and respected her.

She always told me that I could do anything that a man could do. She went to a conference and brought a duffle bag back for me that read never underestimate the power of a woman. She was very upset that I didn’t go to college for business.

There were some things though that she thought that women shouldn’t do. She frowned upon me hanging out in the garage with the men. I didn’t hear the end of it if I went in there with shorts on. I loved the smell of rubber from the tires that were on sale there and even the scent of gasoline brought me comfort. But I never even learned basic things about cars.

One day while I was in college, I had car trouble. It happened on the day of a snow storm. I flooded my car. Today things are so easy, I step on the brake and push a button to start my car. Back then, I had to push the gas pedal to the floor once. Then while I had the key in the ignition I had to pump the gas to get the car to start. The day of the storm, I flooded my car. I knew that there was a way to pop open my hood and pull up on something to ease this problem, but I didn’t know how. I ran back inside to find a pay phone to call my grandpa who spent his whole life as a mechanic. It was all a fool’s errand because all I needed to do was pop the hood and about 10 guys offered assistance. I miss calling Grace or my grandparents for guidance. Now somehow I am supposed to be an adult with all of the answers. 

Last night all of these memories came back to me like a flood. Stupid things. Silly things. I felt overwhelmed by nostalgia, a longing for my loved ones long gone. I asked myself why I seem to be so plagued by these memories. Then I reminded myself that I opened the door by thinking and writing of these things. I feel very compelled to write everything that happened down so someday it won’t be forgotten. While I was studying genealogy, I searched to understand, to really know, the people that came before me. All I found were names and dates scratched on a piece of paper. It really meant nothing. Aunt Grace kept our family geneaology. The funny thing was that after she was gone I continued it for her. But with the internet and all of modern technology, I did not get any further than she did.

My childhood has been gone for a long time now. Now the childhood years of my children are coming to an end. It has been a difficult transition for me. I struggle with accepting change, even if it is for the better.

I have to keep writing.

 

The travel diaries, sailing off into the sunset

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As the old saying goes, all good things must come to the end. This is the end of my travel series, but not the end of my travels.

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It has been fun spending the last couple of weeks writing of a lifetime of previous adventures. I am glad to finally have those memories written down to forever cherish before they slowly fade away. 

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In a few months, I will be perched in a favorite spot armed with my camera and a good story to tell. Writing reviews and telling stories while they happen with a favorite photo or two. 

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In the meantime, I will be sending off my oldest daughter to explore different shores to a place where her adult journey will begin. I can’t wait to see where life will take her.

Keep traveling! 

The travel diaries, The Grand Canyon

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A few years ago, Paul and I had a conference in Phoenix. I’ll be honest with you, the little lunch break by the pool ended up turning into missing the next seminar. Didn’t we hear about that topic the year before anyway? We never get hot summer days in the fall in WI. Sometimes we don’t get hot summer days in the summer. So really could you blame us for giving in to temptation?

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After the conference we rented a car and drove to Flagstaff. On the way we stopped in a little town called Jerome. We were told that was where the hippies live. We did see a couple in a VW van that could pass as hippies but that was about it. I wasn’t able to add to my collection of boho clothes or jewelry, but we did have a nice lunch. Then we stopped at the Red Rock park and hiked there for awhile.

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Flagstaff was a nice high altitude city. We took a short hike and I was very winded. We met a lot of people, most of them tourists like us. We met a man that followed us to a costume shop to see if he could buy a Bacchus costume to celebrate the fall solstice. He was going to ride around town on his motorcycle while wearing it. OOKKaaayyy. Interesting. Hmm. We met another couple, the woman’s dad lives near us and we know him. Small world.

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The highlight of our trip however was seeing The Grand Canyon. We decided to take the 6 mile hike around the south rim. If you remember from earlier, I am afraid of heights. I can’t even explain in words how overwhelming and immensely grandeur this location is. When we got off the bus to start our hike, I was so terrified that I wanted to turn around and head back. I practically glued my body as far as I could away from the massive drop. In most places, the trails were right next to the side of the cliff without guard rails. There were narrow paths that caused me to cringe when I had to pass someone. After awhile I got used to the dizzying heights.

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When we got back to the hotel we looked online to see how many lives were claimed by this monsterous canyon. There were some interesting stories, like the man who pretended he was falling then actually did. Or the husband who had his wife keep moving back just a little more for the picture.

While I stood at the edge looking down, the still voice inside my head said jump! Jump! Paul said he had the same temptation. It was so strange. I had a lot of anxiety seeing families with small children. Or crazy people that would balance on the ledge. I was always afraid they would fall. 

It is a horrifyingly beautiful location. I was awe struck and overwhelmed at the same time. I cannot express the feelings that this miracle of creation elicited within me. I felt like a tiny little ant. You will just have to take a visit yourself!

The flight home was the scariest flight I have ever taken. We had turbulence the whole 3 hours because we were flying over a storm. They couldn’t even serve food or drinks. I faced a lot of fears on this trip and it was positively exhilarating. This is a great location for the adventurous, but leave the little ones at home. I think it would be fun to take a week to hike down into the canyon. Or go rafting on the tiny little river. Okay, it just looks tiny when you are standing at the top of the world. One day just wasn’t enough to see this beauty. 

Good thing I didn’t kick the bucket while checking this one off my bucket list! 

Bon voyage on life’s next journey

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Writing has finally paid off for me. Literally. A week or so back I wrote a post about my bad travel experience with Delta airlines. I decided to go ahead and write them a very detailed complaint letter. What would it hurt? Maybe I would feel better if nothing else. I never had any problems with the airline before. I have never written a complaint letter before either. Today I received an apology letter from Delta along with a $200 gift card. I believe that this rectifies the situation. I wanted to share this response with you because a kind apology goes a long way with me if I feel wronged. It is fair. Ah, redemption and not just redeaming a gift card.

Today I received this gift on the 7th anniversary of my grandma’s death. I know what you are thinking…what does this have to do with flying?? In a weird twisted way, a lot. I planned our first family vacation to Disney a little over 7 years ago. I had planned the whole vacation, made reservations for meals, and purchased airline tickets to be called in a few days before our vacation to see my grandma on her death bed. I didn’t know what to do. I never traveled with the children before. I didn’t buy the extra insurance that allowed me to cancel the trip. And one of the closest people to me in the whole world was leaving it.

The family was called in to say good bye a few days before we were scheduled to leave. My grandma was delirious on Morphine. She spent a lot of time sleeping when we were there. She muttered and cried out, but was not aware of our presence. The following day I went to visit my grandma by myself for a little while. She refused the Morphine so she could be awake to talk to me. She told me that she wanted me to go on vacation. She told me that she was ready to see grandpa and her parents again. She said that I needed to let her go to be with those that passed before her. She said that I would be ok and that someday that the pain of her memory would fade. She lived a long full happy life and was ready for her final journey. 

So we went on our vacation. While we were gone, I called home frequently to be told that grandma was doing good. We got home from our trip Saturday night. When I called my mom, she told me that grandma was doing really well so well that she might be able to come back home. I didn’t need to rush out and visit her right away that night. The next morning I received a call that grandma passed away peacefully less than 24 hours after she knew I got home. 

I was very sad for a long time. I thought of her every single day that first year. I cried a long time the first anniversary of her death. Then it seemed like I didn’t think of her as much anymore. The pain faded and memories bloomed. I tried to remember the good days. 

My grandma once bought me a bright colored umbrella. She told me that she never wanted me to be sad on a rainy day. So I think of the happy days. The puzzles that we worked on together. Our love of mystery, thriller, suspense books. The time spent researching the family tree. Drinking tea together in our special mugs. The beautiful songs that she would sing to soothe my childhood tears. The jar of cookies she would send me home with. 

Today I am wearing one of the matching shirts she bought for us. We were best friends. She helped me through the hardest days of my life. Then she gently let go of my hand.