I have had a request to clarify something in the last post. The one pertaining to "The Great Toilet Paper Roll Experiment."
So here's the thing. You know the part where I mentioned the new roll was squished into the dispenser? And that Jeff said he'd done it? I need to make it crystal clear to anyone who reads this that he did NOT do that out of laziness. Quite the contrary, in fact. His frustration with the situation made him wedge the roll in there, hoping the five oblivious ones would take the hint. Something like, "Hey, you all DO realize this roll of toilet paper goes HERE, right?"
I commend him on his efforts. :)
And, just for the record, let me just take a moment to say Jeff has done a FANTASTIC job on our kitchen cabinet project. He would kill me if I took and posted a photo of the project so far, since the doors are still a work in progress. The cabinets themselves are up, but the doors are giving him fits and remain in the garage. It's a stain issue. But I love his dedication and perfectionism, and I know everything will come together beautifully.
Better, Honey? :)
Friday, December 12, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
This is a test,... only a test
OK. So I was going to go all "high tech" and actually upload or download a photo to accompany this entry. However, Jeff opposed the idea, so I will not. But I have to tell the story (sorry, Honey!) so here goes.
A few days ago, the toilet paper in the main bathroom upstairs -- used by the five kids ages 6, 9, 9, 14 and 16) ran out. I noticed no one had ventured the 24 inches outside the bathroom door to the linen closet and reached for a new roll, so I did it. I must've gotten sidetracked, because I set it on the vanity and didn't replace it on the spool. By the end of the day, neither had anyone else who actually USES the bathroom. So, I decided to engage a little experiment. I told Jeff I was going to wait and see how long it took for someone to actually take 5 seconds out of his/her busy schedule to pop the cardboard tube off the spool and put the full roll of tp on. That was, like, Sunday.
Some time in the past few days, someone smooshed the roll of tp and wedged it above the empty cardboard tube. Classy. I pointed it out to Jeff and he admitted he did it. This was the photo I wanted to share with this post. Trust me,... it was worth a thousand words.
This morning, as I was getting ready in our bathroom (which shares a wall with the main bath) I could've sworn I heard the tell-tale "ka-chunk" of the spool being replaced in its holder. I popped my head out the door and asked Jeff is he'd heard that.
"What?" he said.
"I think Kate just put the toilet paper on the spool!" I told him.
The whole thing reminded me of an incentive program at the elementary school. Kids are spotted "doing the right thing," and nominated by teachers for a "Wildcat Award." They are announced in their class at the end of each week, then go on to be recognized in the cafeteria at lunchtime. It's a nice little program that seems to work well. I thought it might be a good idea to start that in the house -- if any of the kids are spotted helping out simply because they see something that needs done (rather than be nagged, um... I mean asked), they will be recognized/rewarded.
Two things I realized from my "experiment:"
1.) How sad is it that I pay such close attention to whether or not the toilet paper is on the spool, not to mention become giddy with joy when it's replaced, and
2.) I'm thinking a few boxes of SweetTarts could be great incentive! :)
A few days ago, the toilet paper in the main bathroom upstairs -- used by the five kids ages 6, 9, 9, 14 and 16) ran out. I noticed no one had ventured the 24 inches outside the bathroom door to the linen closet and reached for a new roll, so I did it. I must've gotten sidetracked, because I set it on the vanity and didn't replace it on the spool. By the end of the day, neither had anyone else who actually USES the bathroom. So, I decided to engage a little experiment. I told Jeff I was going to wait and see how long it took for someone to actually take 5 seconds out of his/her busy schedule to pop the cardboard tube off the spool and put the full roll of tp on. That was, like, Sunday.
Some time in the past few days, someone smooshed the roll of tp and wedged it above the empty cardboard tube. Classy. I pointed it out to Jeff and he admitted he did it. This was the photo I wanted to share with this post. Trust me,... it was worth a thousand words.
This morning, as I was getting ready in our bathroom (which shares a wall with the main bath) I could've sworn I heard the tell-tale "ka-chunk" of the spool being replaced in its holder. I popped my head out the door and asked Jeff is he'd heard that.
"What?" he said.
"I think Kate just put the toilet paper on the spool!" I told him.
The whole thing reminded me of an incentive program at the elementary school. Kids are spotted "doing the right thing," and nominated by teachers for a "Wildcat Award." They are announced in their class at the end of each week, then go on to be recognized in the cafeteria at lunchtime. It's a nice little program that seems to work well. I thought it might be a good idea to start that in the house -- if any of the kids are spotted helping out simply because they see something that needs done (rather than be nagged, um... I mean asked), they will be recognized/rewarded.
Two things I realized from my "experiment:"
1.) How sad is it that I pay such close attention to whether or not the toilet paper is on the spool, not to mention become giddy with joy when it's replaced, and
2.) I'm thinking a few boxes of SweetTarts could be great incentive! :)
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Crime & Punishment
You know that old saying, "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you"? Yes,... well, I'm feelin' the pain.
Let me rewind a little with some backstory. The three youngest in our family are extremely high-spirited boys. Lovely, smart, funny, energetic boys. They are also competitive boys. And, sometimes, angry boys. When the latter happens (mostly with Jack and Charlie, the two 9-year-olds), I've discovered we're now in the troubled waters of actual physical fighting. But it isn't limited to a little nudge or slap here or there. We're talking full-on mortal combat -- it usually begins with a verbal altercation, followed by chasing. When the chaser catches up with the chasee ... all holy hell breaks loose. We're talking headlocks, clinches, fistfuls of hair being pulled, scratching, etc. It's disgusting and it completely breaks my heart as I see my two precious babies beat each other silly. I used to routinely step in and literally pull them apart, thus stopping the fight. Now, as they are growing stronger and taller, it isn't quite that easy. Case in point: last Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. The kids had the day off school, so I was being all Suzie Homemaker and thought I'd scramble eggs for breakfast. In the 45-seconds between leaving them in the den and going to the kitchen to begin cooking some sort of problem erupted. Before I knew what was happening, they had completed one lap around the first floor (the chase, remember?) and ended their parade, literally, at my feet in the kitchen. It was a blur of grunting, punching and tumbling to the floor. I instinctively stepped in, grabbed the first child I could lay my hands on and pulled. Nothing. I pulled harder. Still nothing. At some point, I found a weak spot and managed to get the boys separated. In the process, managed to injure myself. Throughout the day, one of my fingers proceeded to swell and ache. By 10pm, I was convinced it was broken. Nice. See what I get for trying to keep my kids from injuring each other? And being six months pregnant, it now seems a bit more dangerous to put myself between them as they roll around like bear cubs.
Then, like clockwork, we had a similar altercation within the week. I'd had it. Once again, I managed to break up the fight, but I'd had it. I consulted my husband (who happened to be working at the time) on the situation and possible punishments. We came up with a one-day mega grounding: yesterday, when the boys came home from school, one went to their bedroom and the other to the den. There they sat quietly reading for about two hours until dinner. After eating, they were allowed to swap spots, and quietly read for another 45 minutes until we went to church for Advent service. Following our arrival home, they immediately took showers and went to their beds. Any remaining time before lights out (about 30 min.) was spent -- you guessed it -- quietly reading. There was no television, xBox, GameBoys, puzzles, drawing, etc. Just sitting and reading. Granted there may be some parents who feel this is a bit extreme. And there may be others who think it was too "cushy." Whatever. I'm not looking for approval. The point of the matter is that they hated it. These boys are very social creatures, and the constant reminder of their punishment as their younger brother strolled at will about the house, watched SpongeBob Squarepants and even went next door to play with a friend was enough.
The new rule: If you physically fight and hit anyone in any way, shape or form, you WILL be sequestered to the house to do absolutely nothing (except read, if you wish) for a day.
So, going back to the old phrase, how exactly does this hurt me? I hate punishing the kids. Plain and simple. Yes, life would be much easier and pleasant if I didn't have to be handing out punishments for breaches in civil behavior. But, as our much-loved pediatrician pointed out, "Children do not need a friend at this age... they need a parent. You have the rest of their lives to be their friend." It is truly sage advice that I've repeated to myself over and over again, after disciplining one of the kids and hearing them voice their displeasure. I even told the boys last night how much I absolutely hate (and we don't use that word often) punishing them. I told them flat out that I hate it because then we can't go do fun things if they're grounded. (They lost out on "Waffle Cone Wednesday" at TCBY last night because of their punishment.) And if they're in the house serving time, I have to be there to monitor them, unless I'm OK with the child nearest the den sneaking into the pantry to snack at will -- and I'm not OK with that.
Unfortunately, we're repeating the mega-grounding again today. This time it's Jack and Sam. Seems there was a slight problem getting buckled in the car last night, resulting in Sam hitting Jack and Jack returning the favor with a powerful slug to Sam's arm.
Ugh. This Christmas, if we can't have peace on Earth, I'd settle for peace in our house. :)
Let me rewind a little with some backstory. The three youngest in our family are extremely high-spirited boys. Lovely, smart, funny, energetic boys. They are also competitive boys. And, sometimes, angry boys. When the latter happens (mostly with Jack and Charlie, the two 9-year-olds), I've discovered we're now in the troubled waters of actual physical fighting. But it isn't limited to a little nudge or slap here or there. We're talking full-on mortal combat -- it usually begins with a verbal altercation, followed by chasing. When the chaser catches up with the chasee ... all holy hell breaks loose. We're talking headlocks, clinches, fistfuls of hair being pulled, scratching, etc. It's disgusting and it completely breaks my heart as I see my two precious babies beat each other silly. I used to routinely step in and literally pull them apart, thus stopping the fight. Now, as they are growing stronger and taller, it isn't quite that easy. Case in point: last Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. The kids had the day off school, so I was being all Suzie Homemaker and thought I'd scramble eggs for breakfast. In the 45-seconds between leaving them in the den and going to the kitchen to begin cooking some sort of problem erupted. Before I knew what was happening, they had completed one lap around the first floor (the chase, remember?) and ended their parade, literally, at my feet in the kitchen. It was a blur of grunting, punching and tumbling to the floor. I instinctively stepped in, grabbed the first child I could lay my hands on and pulled. Nothing. I pulled harder. Still nothing. At some point, I found a weak spot and managed to get the boys separated. In the process, managed to injure myself. Throughout the day, one of my fingers proceeded to swell and ache. By 10pm, I was convinced it was broken. Nice. See what I get for trying to keep my kids from injuring each other? And being six months pregnant, it now seems a bit more dangerous to put myself between them as they roll around like bear cubs.
Then, like clockwork, we had a similar altercation within the week. I'd had it. Once again, I managed to break up the fight, but I'd had it. I consulted my husband (who happened to be working at the time) on the situation and possible punishments. We came up with a one-day mega grounding: yesterday, when the boys came home from school, one went to their bedroom and the other to the den. There they sat quietly reading for about two hours until dinner. After eating, they were allowed to swap spots, and quietly read for another 45 minutes until we went to church for Advent service. Following our arrival home, they immediately took showers and went to their beds. Any remaining time before lights out (about 30 min.) was spent -- you guessed it -- quietly reading. There was no television, xBox, GameBoys, puzzles, drawing, etc. Just sitting and reading. Granted there may be some parents who feel this is a bit extreme. And there may be others who think it was too "cushy." Whatever. I'm not looking for approval. The point of the matter is that they hated it. These boys are very social creatures, and the constant reminder of their punishment as their younger brother strolled at will about the house, watched SpongeBob Squarepants and even went next door to play with a friend was enough.
The new rule: If you physically fight and hit anyone in any way, shape or form, you WILL be sequestered to the house to do absolutely nothing (except read, if you wish) for a day.
So, going back to the old phrase, how exactly does this hurt me? I hate punishing the kids. Plain and simple. Yes, life would be much easier and pleasant if I didn't have to be handing out punishments for breaches in civil behavior. But, as our much-loved pediatrician pointed out, "Children do not need a friend at this age... they need a parent. You have the rest of their lives to be their friend." It is truly sage advice that I've repeated to myself over and over again, after disciplining one of the kids and hearing them voice their displeasure. I even told the boys last night how much I absolutely hate (and we don't use that word often) punishing them. I told them flat out that I hate it because then we can't go do fun things if they're grounded. (They lost out on "Waffle Cone Wednesday" at TCBY last night because of their punishment.) And if they're in the house serving time, I have to be there to monitor them, unless I'm OK with the child nearest the den sneaking into the pantry to snack at will -- and I'm not OK with that.
Unfortunately, we're repeating the mega-grounding again today. This time it's Jack and Sam. Seems there was a slight problem getting buckled in the car last night, resulting in Sam hitting Jack and Jack returning the favor with a powerful slug to Sam's arm.
Ugh. This Christmas, if we can't have peace on Earth, I'd settle for peace in our house. :)
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Guilt Money
It's the news on everyone's lips: the recession. Or at least the "official announcement" that came yesterday, telling us the country is, indeed, in a recession. Call me crazy... but I'm pretty sure we all knew that factoid before the economists put their blessing on the news. Since this is the latest buzz, it isn't surprising that the related news articles are everywhere. One in particular caught my eye this morning titled, "Luxury shame: Why even the very rich are cutting back on conspicuous consumption" (by Johnnie L. Roberts, published in the current Newsweek). Intrigued, I read on -- then found myself fuming mad.
The whole article detailed how those with wealth well into the vulgar range are reigning in their spending because they feel a little guilty about said wealth. It began with some multimillionaire who collects high-end properties like Hallmark ornaments. "I collect homes because I enjoy it," he was quoted as saying. This is a man who has just one piece of property valued at $27 million. One property. ONE! And he does this because he enjoys it. The article went on to document (among other specifics) the fact that Lehman Bros. CEO Richard Fuld was raked over the hot coals at a Congressional hearing for his post-bankruptcy half-billion dollar compensation, owning several multi-, multi, MULTI-million dollar estates AND an art collection which was valued at $200 million. The article said all Fuld could muster was "sheepishness," and went on to state he had recently auctioned off $20 million worth of art. Unless I am missing something here, if he auctioned off part of his art collection, didn't that basically just liquidate an asset? I mean, it never said he donated the proceeds to a charity, or some other philanthropic move. So, did he pocket the cash, or what? And then there's AIG, who reportedly treated top-level employees to a $440,000 spa retreat AFTER THE GOVERNMENT BAILED THEM OUT, COSTING THE TAXPAYERS $150 BILLION. Ummm, excuse me. Where's my day at the spa?
Then, in what appeared to be an effort to show how the wealthy are trying to dumb things down and not be as showy, Roberts reported future First Lady Michelle Obama recently appeared on a late night talk show in a "$400 J. Crew ensemble, rather than a designer dress." With all due respect to Mrs. Obama, is that statement supposed to make the rest of us feel better? You've got to be kidding me. No one I know would/could drop $400 on an "ensemble" from J. Crew. Not long ago I was so proud to tell anyone who would listen that I spent a whole $75 dollars on a lot of 13 maternity outfits off eBay -- apparently "going cheap" to some people consists of shelling out $400 at J. Crew. (But for the rest of us who have seen --and choked on--the retail prices of maternity clothes, isn't that a STEAL?!) But I digress...
You know, with Christmas just a little over three weeks away many of us would rather not hear about how the wealthy are feeling guilty about having sooooooo much money. I'd love to say they deserve to feel guilty, when there are countless American families who are in tears trying to figure out how to buy gifts for their kids this year. However, it is not my place to judge. For those elite wealthy who are crying the "too much money" blues, at this point it isn't about the fact that you have all that money, but rather, what are you going to do with it? No matter how they came into the astronomical sums of money in the bank -- earn, gift, steal, etc. -- it is what it is now. You have it, and what you choose to do with it is up to you.
Just don't insult the rest of us by publicly airing how "guilty" you feel.
The whole article detailed how those with wealth well into the vulgar range are reigning in their spending because they feel a little guilty about said wealth. It began with some multimillionaire who collects high-end properties like Hallmark ornaments. "I collect homes because I enjoy it," he was quoted as saying. This is a man who has just one piece of property valued at $27 million. One property. ONE! And he does this because he enjoys it. The article went on to document (among other specifics) the fact that Lehman Bros. CEO Richard Fuld was raked over the hot coals at a Congressional hearing for his post-bankruptcy half-billion dollar compensation, owning several multi-, multi, MULTI-million dollar estates AND an art collection which was valued at $200 million. The article said all Fuld could muster was "sheepishness," and went on to state he had recently auctioned off $20 million worth of art. Unless I am missing something here, if he auctioned off part of his art collection, didn't that basically just liquidate an asset? I mean, it never said he donated the proceeds to a charity, or some other philanthropic move. So, did he pocket the cash, or what? And then there's AIG, who reportedly treated top-level employees to a $440,000 spa retreat AFTER THE GOVERNMENT BAILED THEM OUT, COSTING THE TAXPAYERS $150 BILLION. Ummm, excuse me. Where's my day at the spa?
Then, in what appeared to be an effort to show how the wealthy are trying to dumb things down and not be as showy, Roberts reported future First Lady Michelle Obama recently appeared on a late night talk show in a "$400 J. Crew ensemble, rather than a designer dress." With all due respect to Mrs. Obama, is that statement supposed to make the rest of us feel better? You've got to be kidding me. No one I know would/could drop $400 on an "ensemble" from J. Crew. Not long ago I was so proud to tell anyone who would listen that I spent a whole $75 dollars on a lot of 13 maternity outfits off eBay -- apparently "going cheap" to some people consists of shelling out $400 at J. Crew. (But for the rest of us who have seen --and choked on--the retail prices of maternity clothes, isn't that a STEAL?!) But I digress...
You know, with Christmas just a little over three weeks away many of us would rather not hear about how the wealthy are feeling guilty about having sooooooo much money. I'd love to say they deserve to feel guilty, when there are countless American families who are in tears trying to figure out how to buy gifts for their kids this year. However, it is not my place to judge. For those elite wealthy who are crying the "too much money" blues, at this point it isn't about the fact that you have all that money, but rather, what are you going to do with it? No matter how they came into the astronomical sums of money in the bank -- earn, gift, steal, etc. -- it is what it is now. You have it, and what you choose to do with it is up to you.
Just don't insult the rest of us by publicly airing how "guilty" you feel.
Monday, December 1, 2008
'Tis the Season... Officially
We got an early "Welcome to December" present yesterday with about an inch of snow on the ground. Despite it falling on November 30, I will take it for December 1, and officially herald in the holiday season. I'm not one of those early birds who readily accepts stores putting up Christmas decorations in mid-October. No way. With the calendar reading December and snow on the ground, I'm ready to begin shopping and assorted holiday planning.
The one thing I will try to tackle early is a New Year's resolution -- which would be to write more often, including blog entries. I have no idea if anyone (besides the three "followers" I have... THANK YOU, JENNY, ETHAN AND LINDY!) regularly reads this blog, but it sure is fun to write. When I write, that is. I've even given the page a little face lift. I like the color scheme much better than the old one... although I haven't yet figured out how the little "tool" icons popped up. Not that I'm opposed to being handy, but the wrench and screwdriver combo doesn't quite keep with my overall theme. (If I can even claim an "overall theme," that is.) Regardless, I like the fresh, new look. Maybe it will entice me back to post more often. :)
We have so much going on this time of year, and in our lives in general. Now we begin thinking of gifts to share with others. True, it's the season of giving to others, but it seems like a necessity to take a few minutes every day and recount the little blessings of the day -- it's like a little gift for yourself. It's a perfect chance to pause and be grateful for every last one of the day's moments. And I am grateful... beyond grateful most days. In fact, I was recently asked, "Are you happy?" At the time, I simply answered "yes," with a smile. The truth of the matter is that I am happier right now in my life than I have ever been... and happier than I ever thought I could be. Happy, content and eager to see what each day will bring -- good and bad. I have a wonderful family (both immediate and extended), and a few really close, true friends with whom I can share the good times, and find love and support during the bad times.
And what a priceless gift that is, too.
The one thing I will try to tackle early is a New Year's resolution -- which would be to write more often, including blog entries. I have no idea if anyone (besides the three "followers" I have... THANK YOU, JENNY, ETHAN AND LINDY!) regularly reads this blog, but it sure is fun to write. When I write, that is. I've even given the page a little face lift. I like the color scheme much better than the old one... although I haven't yet figured out how the little "tool" icons popped up. Not that I'm opposed to being handy, but the wrench and screwdriver combo doesn't quite keep with my overall theme. (If I can even claim an "overall theme," that is.) Regardless, I like the fresh, new look. Maybe it will entice me back to post more often. :)
We have so much going on this time of year, and in our lives in general. Now we begin thinking of gifts to share with others. True, it's the season of giving to others, but it seems like a necessity to take a few minutes every day and recount the little blessings of the day -- it's like a little gift for yourself. It's a perfect chance to pause and be grateful for every last one of the day's moments. And I am grateful... beyond grateful most days. In fact, I was recently asked, "Are you happy?" At the time, I simply answered "yes," with a smile. The truth of the matter is that I am happier right now in my life than I have ever been... and happier than I ever thought I could be. Happy, content and eager to see what each day will bring -- good and bad. I have a wonderful family (both immediate and extended), and a few really close, true friends with whom I can share the good times, and find love and support during the bad times.
And what a priceless gift that is, too.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Sickness and Sadness
You know how you find yourself rolling along just fine and dandy ... things are going pretty well, other than the usual day-to-day hiccups. Then... BAM! You get smacked with a bunch of things at once? The kind of things that plant your feet firmly on the ground and bring you back to the reality of life.
There's a nasty flu bug going around, which (knock on wood!) I think we may have avoided. I've been giving the boys their daily vitamin and supplements, followed by a quick prayer that they remember to wash their hands well at school. The cousins have been knocked down by this bug, and Kate came down with it earlier in the week. It is not a virus to be taken lightly -- it will whip your butt if given the chance.
I have been on vigilant Lysol patrol, misting doorknobs, refrigerator door handles, remote controls, the phone, etc. Basically, if it cannot run from me, it gets disinfected. Germs fear me.
I got an email from a childhood friend, Missi, a few days ago with "horrible news" in the subject heading. That's never good. Seems one of our friends, Cory, committed suicide last week. Wow. Talk about reading something that takes the wind out of your sails for a few minutes. Not many details are known yet, but we all set out to notify other friends from high school. Sigh. I sat there, silent for a few minutes letting the news sink in. I felt overwhelming sadness. Then it occurred to me that I'd only seen Cory a total of about three times since we graduated 20 years ago. Two class reunions and a bachelorette party. How was it that I felt such a loss for someone I'd barely seen in two decades? I received a few more emails that night, one from another high school friend. He, unknowingly, answered my question. He wrote that no matter how scattered or removed we are from our hometown and the people there, they are -- and will always be -- part of who we are. He was so right. That town, those people... they helped form the foundation of the people we are today. Maybe we aren't in constant contact with everyone who hung out together in grade school/junior high/high school, but they are part of the fabric of who we've all become and the relationships we have today.
So, in remembering Cory, I will try not to focus on her tragic end. Rather, I will always remember her seemingly never-ending crush on John Hrapek in elementary school; riding the bus with her and Missi to school every day of junior high; being lab partners in sophomore chemistry, where we somehow decided we'd like to run for president/VP some day and came up with the slogan "'88 or '92! We don't care, it's up to you!" (OK, so we were a little off on the age requirement, being that we'd have only been 19 or 23 at the time of election. It was the thought that counted.) I will fondly remember my friend Pam and I being locker neighbors with Cory and Missi our senior year -- it's amazing how much drama and hilarity you can pack into 5-minute passing periods throughout the day. I will also never forget Cory, Missi and myself being the "chatty Bermuda Triangle" in creative writing class. And when we weren't chatting, driving Mr. Pinkerton crazy (in a good way), we would pass notes. They were hilarious. I kept them for many years, based on how re-reading them would make me laugh until I cried. I wonder if I might still have them. I will remember how much fun we had at Missi's bachelorette party in Chicago... and at our 10-year high school reunion.
The last time I saw Cory was a little over a year ago at our 20-year reunion. If she was sad/depressed at that point, I'd have never seen it. She was always laughing. And that's exactly how I want to remember her.
Goodbye, Cory. So many will miss you.
"I left my heart,... In Sam Clam's Disco..."
There's a nasty flu bug going around, which (knock on wood!) I think we may have avoided. I've been giving the boys their daily vitamin and supplements, followed by a quick prayer that they remember to wash their hands well at school. The cousins have been knocked down by this bug, and Kate came down with it earlier in the week. It is not a virus to be taken lightly -- it will whip your butt if given the chance.
I have been on vigilant Lysol patrol, misting doorknobs, refrigerator door handles, remote controls, the phone, etc. Basically, if it cannot run from me, it gets disinfected. Germs fear me.
I got an email from a childhood friend, Missi, a few days ago with "horrible news" in the subject heading. That's never good. Seems one of our friends, Cory, committed suicide last week. Wow. Talk about reading something that takes the wind out of your sails for a few minutes. Not many details are known yet, but we all set out to notify other friends from high school. Sigh. I sat there, silent for a few minutes letting the news sink in. I felt overwhelming sadness. Then it occurred to me that I'd only seen Cory a total of about three times since we graduated 20 years ago. Two class reunions and a bachelorette party. How was it that I felt such a loss for someone I'd barely seen in two decades? I received a few more emails that night, one from another high school friend. He, unknowingly, answered my question. He wrote that no matter how scattered or removed we are from our hometown and the people there, they are -- and will always be -- part of who we are. He was so right. That town, those people... they helped form the foundation of the people we are today. Maybe we aren't in constant contact with everyone who hung out together in grade school/junior high/high school, but they are part of the fabric of who we've all become and the relationships we have today.
So, in remembering Cory, I will try not to focus on her tragic end. Rather, I will always remember her seemingly never-ending crush on John Hrapek in elementary school; riding the bus with her and Missi to school every day of junior high; being lab partners in sophomore chemistry, where we somehow decided we'd like to run for president/VP some day and came up with the slogan "'88 or '92! We don't care, it's up to you!" (OK, so we were a little off on the age requirement, being that we'd have only been 19 or 23 at the time of election. It was the thought that counted.) I will fondly remember my friend Pam and I being locker neighbors with Cory and Missi our senior year -- it's amazing how much drama and hilarity you can pack into 5-minute passing periods throughout the day. I will also never forget Cory, Missi and myself being the "chatty Bermuda Triangle" in creative writing class. And when we weren't chatting, driving Mr. Pinkerton crazy (in a good way), we would pass notes. They were hilarious. I kept them for many years, based on how re-reading them would make me laugh until I cried. I wonder if I might still have them. I will remember how much fun we had at Missi's bachelorette party in Chicago... and at our 10-year high school reunion.
The last time I saw Cory was a little over a year ago at our 20-year reunion. If she was sad/depressed at that point, I'd have never seen it. She was always laughing. And that's exactly how I want to remember her.
Goodbye, Cory. So many will miss you.
"I left my heart,... In Sam Clam's Disco..."
Friday, November 7, 2008
Just call me Monkey Bread
Well, well, well... look who's putting up another post! And within a week of the last one!
I was driving to work today, categorizing and prioritizing the various things I want/need to accomplish in the near future. (The "near future" being anywhere from this morning until ... ???) Every time I'd think of something and add it to the mental list, another one would pop into my head, weaseling its way in front of the last thing. I started having that feeling of being pulled in every direction -- sort of like Monkey Bread. You know, it's like a big blob of cinnamon rolls, and half the fun of eating it is pulling off individual pieces as you go.
Feeling pulled in a million directions isn't always fun and games. In fact, I've never known it to be ANY fun at all. I mean, it's nice to feel "needed," but when several areas of your life are needing things from you on a daily basis, it can become a bit too much. Two Thanksgivings ago, while driving to my parents house for the feast, I had an epiphany of sorts. As a single-parent then, I felt I needed to focus on things in my life that were important (my kids, extended family, work, etc.) eliminate everything in my life that was taking away from that. I realized that, in 25 years, no one would remember (or care, for that matter) that I served on such-and-such committee, or handled XYZ for some organization. What would matter was the time I spent with my boys... and what kind of relationship we had. Being too stressed out with too many things on my plate made me cranky, and being cranky when dealing with kids is a recipe for disaster.
Now, remarried with a seven- (soon to be eight) person family, there are a whole new list of priorities to order. I guess if I can just remember to keep who and what is important at the forefront of my mind, I should be good to go.
And the only Monkey Bread I'll have to worry about is the batch I want to make for Thanksgiving. :)
I was driving to work today, categorizing and prioritizing the various things I want/need to accomplish in the near future. (The "near future" being anywhere from this morning until ... ???) Every time I'd think of something and add it to the mental list, another one would pop into my head, weaseling its way in front of the last thing. I started having that feeling of being pulled in every direction -- sort of like Monkey Bread. You know, it's like a big blob of cinnamon rolls, and half the fun of eating it is pulling off individual pieces as you go.
Feeling pulled in a million directions isn't always fun and games. In fact, I've never known it to be ANY fun at all. I mean, it's nice to feel "needed," but when several areas of your life are needing things from you on a daily basis, it can become a bit too much. Two Thanksgivings ago, while driving to my parents house for the feast, I had an epiphany of sorts. As a single-parent then, I felt I needed to focus on things in my life that were important (my kids, extended family, work, etc.) eliminate everything in my life that was taking away from that. I realized that, in 25 years, no one would remember (or care, for that matter) that I served on such-and-such committee, or handled XYZ for some organization. What would matter was the time I spent with my boys... and what kind of relationship we had. Being too stressed out with too many things on my plate made me cranky, and being cranky when dealing with kids is a recipe for disaster.
Now, remarried with a seven- (soon to be eight) person family, there are a whole new list of priorities to order. I guess if I can just remember to keep who and what is important at the forefront of my mind, I should be good to go.
And the only Monkey Bread I'll have to worry about is the batch I want to make for Thanksgiving. :)
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