Happy Mothers Day

My loves. My life.  My reasons for doing practically everything I do and have done in my life.  My kids.  Thank you for making me a Mom.  I love you more than you will ever know.

This "season" of my life, some might say, is a selfish one.  One that has nothing to do with my family and all to do with me.  Yes, I'm doing something I've always wanted to do.  Something that takes me away sometimes on special occasions.  But selfish?  No.  Anything but.  Everything I do, every decision I make, I have the 4 of you in the back of my mind.

I'm getting off track here.  Obviously I don't know what writing blogs is about.  You can tell that since I only write maybe once or twice a year.  I just wanted to tell each of my kids something this Mothers Day.

Crystal.  First, let me apologize for being such a bad mom when you were a baby.  I had NO idea what I was doing, and I simply couldn't handle it.  I was young and overwhelmed and thankfully, with the help of my Mom, and a wonderful babysitter (Weesie) you made it.  I can't take any credit for you making it those first few years.  When you were in middle school, I never thought I'd see you in anything but camo.  I had to bite my tongue, and by the time you were in high school, wow!  What a beauty you were.  But you were (and are) so independent and strong, I don't think you ever really needed me to help you in any way.  I was just there in case....  Just so you know, I still am, and I always will be.  You will always be my strong, independent, girl who isn't afraid to stand up for what she believes in.  I wish I had half your bravery.  You continue to teach me things all the time. Both tangible and intangible.  I love you.

Lyndsey.  I have to apologize to you too.  Although I knew a little better what to expect when you were born, I still didn't quite have it together.  It was tough.  Looking back, I'm sure it was what they now call post-partum depression.  (what an awful term, right?)  I thought then it was because of separating from your dad and stuff, and that I was just a bad Mom.  But oh, how I loved you and your sister.  I just didn't think I knew what to do with you both sometimes.  Again, I'm so grateful I had two wonderful women who helped me get through that first year especially.  When you got in to Middle School and then in to High School, I realized how much trouble I was in for.  You were (and are) just like me.  You were stubborn, you pushed the limits, and you were sneaky.  Boy did we have some yelling matches.  I saw so much of myself in you it was like looking in a mirror.  Your Senior year was probably the hardest year of all.  I'm sure for both of us.  But you have no idea how much my heart was breaking.  I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around you and to just let you have what your hearts desires were at that time.  Oh, how thankful I am how things turned out.  Not that the road was without it's bumps and detours after that, but look at you now.  You are such an amazing Mom.  Your boys are so lucky they have you.  God couldn't have given them anyone better.  I'm so proud of you, and I only hope that some parts of you are still just like me.  Or that I'm just like you.  I love you.

Christopher.  No apologies.  I was much better by the time you came along.  Not that I didn't make mistakes.  I made plenty.  You were a pretty good baby.  Pretty average.  I have to say, you were pretty easy through Elementary, Middle School, and even High School.  You were far from perfect, but you were pretty easy.  I'm so thankful you were smart enough to do your schoolwork on your own!  And got it done, too.  And hockey. So many good friendships that gave you.  There were years during and after tryouts that I think were the toughest for me as a Mom.  Oh how I wanted you to always make the team you wanted to be on.  But, you (we) always ended up being on the team you were supposed to be on.  I hope you appreciate those years as much as I do.  I think you do.  I hope you know through anything I'll be there for you.  Three Summers ago when I got that phone call from you, all I wanted to do was make sure you were ok and make sure you knew things would be ok.  And, look at you now.  I know you wouldn't trade what you have now for anything in the world.  It hasn't been the easy road you've taken, but you've managed it so amazingly, and so maturely, that sometimes I just don't know how you do it.  I hope you know how proud of you we are.  And I hope you know we are always here for you.  I love you.

Gregory.  My baby.  My surprise.  After 20 years, I guess I should tell you that to me, you really weren't a surprise.  I really did want another baby.  I might have wanted a girl, but......  Yep.  Whatever people may think, you were not a surprise.  Take what you want from that.  You were such a joy.  From the moment I brought you home.  You were such an easy baby.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe because I knew you were going to be the last one.  I just enjoyed you.  With you too, just like your brother, you were pretty easy through school.  Other than having to make sure you stayed on top of your homework.  I think you were and are just too smart.  We had our issues a bit through high school.  Choices were made, and lines were drawn (and crossed) many times.  That whole "three strikes" thing turned in to something more like "nine lives" for you.  I'm hoping and praying you learned from some of them and as you make your way now through college, you remember some of the things we said.  Maybe not ready to debate so much anymore.  Just listen, think about it, let it sink in, then make your decisions for your life.  I'm so excited to see what these next few years hold for you.  You have such a tender heart.  I like to think you got that from me.  You are so smart.  I know you didn't get that from me.  Amaze me Gregory!  I know you will.  I love you.

There are so many things I'd do different, but so many things I'd do the same.  I love the four of you so much.  Thank you for making me a Mom.
Happy Mothers Day to me.

Goodbyes

This week was my  Dad's 87th Birthday.  Or was it his 90th.  Or his 93rd?
Other than December 6, 1928 (which is pretty mch his answer to almost everything these days) he really doesn't remember much.  So although my memory might not be that great some days either, I am going to help him out by jotting down some of my favorite memories of him.  I know that the day will come soon enough that I will be saying goodbye and I will only have my memories to look back on.

I opened my Blog site today to write about goodbyes.  I found the above entry I had started to write last December.  Wow.

Goodbyes and memories.  I'm thinking I don't like either of them much anymore.  You can't say goodbye to someone and not have memories.  And you can't have memories with someone and it be easy when it comes time to say goodbye.  Those memories are precious, and will forever and always be a part of who you are.

Having the memories from someone you've lost are a blessing and a curse.  Sometimes they sneak up on you when you least expect it and they knock the wind right out of you.  Other times, they are the only thing that keep you going through the days.  I'm struggling today with that feeling of having the wind knocked out of me.

When Dad died, I think I handled it pretty well.  I don't know if I ever really said goodbye to him, but whether you say goodbye or not, when a person you love leaves, they take a little bit of your heart with them.  Maybe that's why God allows the memories to stay with you.  To fill that place that's missing in your heart.  It just doesn't fit back together ever again quite right.  Maybe that's why losing someone literally does break your heart in a way that can never be fixed.

Always 

65 Years of Love

What does 65 years of marriage look like?

Today is my Mom and Dad's 65th Wedding Anniversary.  They were married September 24, 1950.  Two weeks after they were married my Dad left for the Korean War.  My Mom only saw him two more times during that first two years of marriage.  They wrote to each other ever day during those two years.  After he returned home, they lived in Julesburg, CO for a couple of years before moving to Denver.  They haven't been separated for more than a couple of days apart from each other, ever, since those first two years.  

He doesn't remember this part of their story anymore.

This week, my mom is trying to make the difficult decision whether it's time to have my Dad go into an Assisted Living Memory Care Center.  My Mom is an amazing woman. A true warrior.  She has been the caregiver for my Dad since his Alzheimer's diagnosis over 5 years ago.  24/7 she is with him, caring for him, and loving him.  Some days she believes he knows her as his wife, but EVERY morning when she wakes him up, he tells her "Your the most beautiful woman in the whole world" before giving her a hug and a kiss.  Some days are good, and a few days are bad, but they always have each other.

This transition is not going to be easy.  First of all, it is quite the process to even make anything happen.  Our heads are spinning with so many questions. Where? How? When?  Where is the right place for him?  Will he be angry at Mom for taking him somewhere and leaving him there?  Will it make it harder on him if she visits and then leaves?  Will he know her when she visits?  Will he think someone else is his wife?  How will we afford it?  How long will this last before the Lord takes him Home?  Can it really get any worse?  Is this really the right time?  

I think it's like with anything.  If you wait until you think it's the right time, you will never move forward. We know in our brains that it's time, but our hearts are having a hard time with the decision.  I believe there will be sort of a mourning process.  Once he moves out of their home, things will never be the same.  There will be a loss.  Mom will be alone.  (even if she moves in with us kids)  Of course we can go visit, and we will,  but things will be different.  I want to believe, though, that things will only be different, difficult, and a feeling of loss for us at home, and not for Dad.  I want to believe that Dad will settle in and be at home wherever he is.  I want to believe that he will be as happy where he ends up, as he is now.  I want to believe that he will still think that he is "in the military", and still "taking care of his Broncos".  I want to believe that he will always somehow know that "the most beautiful woman in the whole world" will always be there for him, and that she loves him more today than she did on the day they were married 65 years ago. 

That Mom

Yes, I'm "That Mom".  I've found myself telling that to people numerous times through the years.
I feel like I was always That Mom. 
No judgments, right?  
I'm That Mom who divorced while her two baby girls were under 3 years old.  Never looked back.
I'm That Mom who has four children with two different last names.  Names don't mean a thing.
I was That Mom who bottle fed her babies.  We still bonded, and they all built up great immunities.  
I was That Mom who dressed her girls alike until they were old enough to fight me about it.  They both have great fashion sense today.  
I'm That Mom who made sure her children were going to have a "great day" before I let them out of the car for school every morning.  They know what I'm talking about.  
I'm That Mom who was half way home from church when I realized I left my pre-school aged son at church in his Sunday School room.  I turned around to go get him.  He wasn't crying, and he wasn't the last one to be picked up. 
I'm That Mom who watches Soap Operas during the afternoons.  Some day my children, and my grandchildren will tell their children about watching them with me.  Just like I do.
I'm That Mom who thought her child was better than yours.  I hope I taught them to live, win, and lose with humility.
I'm That Mom who knew her child wasn't as good as yours.  I hope I taught them to live, win, and lose, with grace and a smile.
I'm That Mom who couldn't wait for hockey season to end every year.  But I was always the first to know when tryouts were going to be for the next season to start too. 
I'm That Mom who couldn't wait for school to start every year because I was tired of having "bored" children hanging around the house.  But I also was your biggest supporter when it came to sticking up for you with your teachers and listening to your problems with your friends. 
I'm That Mom who absolutely forbid her daughter to date a boy she was dating.  Turns out, I was right.
I'm That Mom who couldn't wait for her children to all be out of the house and have an "empty nest".  However, while I was smiling each time one walked out the door for the last time, I was crying when the door closed. 
I'm That Mom who have had children take imperfect situations and make them in to blessings. Thank you God. 
I'm That Mom who doesn't have perfect children.  Sometimes, they get in trouble, they make wrong decisions, and they screw up.  
I'm That Mom who will love her children through anything and no matter what. 
I'm That Mom who will always be here for them and who always has an ear to listen when they have sorrows or happiness.
I'm That Mom who can't wait to see what the future holds for all of them.  
My first born - The independent one.  I'm That Mom who knows she not really so independent.
My second born - The stubborn one.  I'm That Mom who knows she is most like me.
My third born - The one with the tender heart.  I'm That Mom who knows he is tough on the outside, but a softy on the inside.
My youngest - The great debater.  I'm That Mom who knows that some day, he'll know that he didn't win all of the debates he thought he did.
I'm That Mom who worries about her children every day.  I pray they will make good decisions.  I pray they will get caught when they don't.  I cry for them.  I laugh with them.  I pray for their successes and their future. They are my greatest joys, my greatest sorrows, my greatest stress, my greatest relief.  
Yes, I'm "That Mom".  I might not have always made the right decisions, or disciplined the right way.  I'm far from perfect, but I'll always be That Mom.  Their Mom.

The Hockey Bond

This weekend will be the last weekend  I will get to watch my youngest son’s last hockey games with Littleton Hockey.  Between both my boys, I have watched hundreds of games, driven to and from thousands of practices, traveled to many states for tournaments, and volunteered many hours of time in support of their love of this sport.  (MY love of this sport)

When I married my husband, I knew nothing of this sport called hockey.  I quickly learned, though.   He was a hockey coach, and he gave me a rule book to read so I would know what was going on during games he was coaching.  I knew if we had boys that they would play the game.  And they did.  Our first son started skating when he was 3 years old.  When our youngest came along, he followed suit.

I’ve watched them learn to skate forward, learn to skate backwards, learn to shoot, learn to score, and  I’ve watched them try to play goalie.  (I’m so thankful that didn’t stick for either of them.  Goalie parents are special, and I’m not that kind of special.)I watched as they made up their “cely”.  I watched them fall down and get back up.  From their earliest age skating, I told them “If something isn’t broken, then don’t stay down on the ice.”  I might have sounded pretty tough and mean, but you can bet that if they went down on the ice, I was the one that was holding my breath and praying that they were okay.

I watched as they went through all of their tryouts.  Hockey tryouts are not a “everybody gets a ribbon” kind of tryout.  There were many years of disappointments when I watched as they learned they didn’t make the team they wanted to be on, or maybe didn’t get on the same team that their friends were on.  But, there were also those years that those “disappointments” turned out to be some of the best years they had playing hockey!

They both learned to work with many different Coaches.  Some they liked.  (Hopefully their Dad was one of those.) Some weren’t their favorites.  But, each Coach taught them something new whether it was a hockey skill, or just how to deal with different personalities.  They learned to respect.  I’m so proud of the young men hockey has helped shape my boys in to.

When the games were close ones, I had a hard time sitting in the stands and watching.  I would usually go somewhere that I could see when our team would have the puck, and I could pace when the other team would have the puck.  However, I always knew what was going on with the game, and especially if my boys were on the ice.  I was so proud to watch them play as hard as they could.  I was so proud when they scored or when they gave the biggest check.  No, there won’t be games every weekend.  But there will be College Club games.  There will be Beer Leagues. I will still be nervous during the close games.   I will still hold my breath if they fall. 

They have made friendships that they will have forever.  (I have made friendships that I will have forever.)  They will all be going their separate ways once the Season is over.  Some will head off to college, some will play Juniors, some will be working, and some we might even see in the NHL someday.  But there will always be a bond.  The hockey bond.

All the wonderful memories made.  Out of State tournaments-Wishing we were somewhere warm, but ending up in ND or MN.  Tournaments on holidays-Thanksgiving dinners in hotels, being ready to travel right after celebrating Christmas.  Tailgate parties in the rink parking lots- Margaritas from our trunks and sneaking them in to the ice rinks in our water bottles.  Happy Hour, Happy Hour, Happy Hour-whether celebrating a win, a loss, or waiting for a game to begin.  And then there are my friends.   Wonderful friends.  I’ve been to school graduations, weddings, and funerals.  There are some I will see on a regular basis, and some I may never see again.  But I know, if I do run in to them again, we will have the bond.  The hockey bond.

There were a few years I think I counted down the months until this day would come.  But now it’s here, and I am sad.  Sad that this year, I have missed quite a few of his games.  Maybe it was God’s way of weaning me away from it.  Maybe He knew it would be too hard for me to miss it all “cold turkey”.  Well, time will tell.  

The Watch

The watch is simple.  It has a gold band, white face, gold numbers 1 through 12, and red numbers 13 through 24.  It shines a turquoise glow with the push of the bridle.  Is that really all there is to it?  What makes this watch so special when he has at least 3 to 4 more watches in his bedroom dresser?

He will show that watch to everyone he meets.  He will tell you he got it from being in the Service, although none of us really remember when he got it.  The story is that he has fought in three wars.  He was a leader of many forces, took down many terrorists, and was very respected by the men he led.  With a gentle touch from his wife, the story will stop.  Until he meets someone new. 

The watch also will lead in to the story of how he coached the Broncos, the Rockies, and the Colorado Avalanche.  The Broncos would be a better team today if they had their Coach on the sideline with them.  He taught John Elway and Eric Decker everything they know.  He coached many sports teams over the years.  Soccer, Football, Hockey, and Basketball.  He picks up the basketball from a team that he did coach that was painted with all the players names on it.  He reads some of the names on it,  tosses it up and down while that watch gleams in the light. 

He will look at his watch and start speaking in German.  He will tell you stories about his parents and his brothers and sisters.  That watch helps my Dad remember the most precious story of marrying my mom, leaving for the Korean War just a short two weeks after, and then being gone for the next two years.  That story he does remember.

Some days, the watch gets “misplaced”.  He is worried that someone might have taken it because it is so valuable.  Would one of the strangers who have come in to the house taken this precious timepiece?  No.  It is always found. 

The watch is shown even to his family.  His sons, his daughters, his grandsons, his granddaughters.  He’s afraid to sometimes show it to his great-grandchildren in fear that they might damage it. 

He doesn't read the paper anymore, and he seldom watches TV.  He wants to shave every day, at least once if not two or three times.  His wife is always there to make sure he gets ready for the day.  To make sure he know what date and day it is.  To make sure he finds the watch to put on.  She tells him who it is that he is going to show the watch to. She worries that they won’t know what to say to him, and wonders what they must think.  She tells him who it is that is at the door, or who is coming in the house.

When I go for a visit, he comes and gives me a big hug.  Tells me he shaved for me.  I think he knows me.  He is a good pretender.  He will show me his watch and start to tell me his stories.  He will hold my hand.   But is he holding his daughter’s hand, his granddaughter’s hand, or just some nice lady’s hand who has come over to visit and who will listen to his many stories about the wars, and all the teams he coached?  Does it matter?  Have I heard the stories over and over before?  Yes, but I will gladly sit and listen over and over again.

That watch.  It does more than tell time for my Dad.  It tells many stories that might or might not be true.  It starts many conversations that someday will never be said.  It knows many people that my Dad doesn't know any more.  Is the watch itself special?  No.  But when my Dad wears it, it is a treasure.

Summer-Can You Really Go Back?

Much has happened over the last year.  My sister suggested I write an update, but I don’t even know where to begin. 

Seasons….It seems I am back in to my favorite Season of all.  Summer.  But am I?  Can you really go back?  

Just over a year ago I was feeling pretty good about myself, having trained and competed in a Figure Competition at my age.  But, believe me, I felt my age!  Last year, I watched my sister fight the battle against breast cancer, and also lost two good friends to cancers.  My sister was amazing through all her treatments and surgeries.  Always pushing through, and never lost her fun spirit.  One of my friends, was an amazing example of a mother, doctor, volunteer, and wife, who lived through her treatments and surgeries with amazing grace and strength.   My other friend was an amazing dad, husband, brother, coach, volunteer, who NEVER gave up.  He was always there for his wife and kids, friends, teams, and others.  It was because of these three people that I decided to follow my dream and not just sit back and be content with where I was at.

So, that brings me to December of last year.  I applied to become a Flight Attendant with Southwest Airlines.  They only open up external applications once every few years.  I was so excited.  I just knew it was meant to be.  Well it wasn’t meant to be.  In February I interviewed, and in March I received my “Thanks, but no thanks” email.  I was so discouraged.  Talk about a dream being crushed!  A few weeks after that, it was recommended to me to check out Alaska Airlines.  They were hiring Flight Attendants.  Who was Alaska Airlines??  I live in Colorado!  I really didn’t even know anything about Alaska Airlines.  Well, in checking out the company, and checking in to what it would mean if I applied, I found out that I would most likely be based in Anchorage, AK if I was hired.  Now, if you really know me, you know that Alaska is probably the last state in the US that I would ever choose to live in.  However, when Mike and I talked about the possibilities and the future, we decided I should go for it.  I sent in my application.  I spent a 12 hour day interviewing and was offered the job.  Three weeks later I was in Seattle for training.  (There will have to be an entire blog entry related to training!)

I remember about two years ago, sitting on a friend’s patio for a girls night out happy hour, and mentioning  that one day I’d like to be a Flight Attendant.  I really don’t know how many of my girlfriends ever believed that at my age, it would be smart or even possible to do, or that I would even do it.  Well, I’m so thankful that I took the chance and followed that dream.  Is it easy?  Was being away for 5 ½ weeks for training easy?  Is living in Alaska away from my family easy?  Absolutely not.  But I do know that I have the full support of Mike and the rest of my family.  I know that in the long run, this will be good for our family.  “Short term sacrifice for long term gain” is what I keep telling myself. 

Did I really go back to the “Season of Summer” in my life?  No.  I’m still the same age, in the same Season of life that I was this time last year.  However, I am living my life with no regrets.  Living and not ever going to say I wish I would have done that.  No matter what my age, what Season I am in.