Read, re-read, repeat.

Happy.

I'm not bragging.

I'm basking.

Here's the thing:  It happens, people.  True happiness? -- amidst difficuties and hard work...when you look around...it's here.

I was called jaded today.

Jaded:  The end result of having a steady flow of negative experiences, disappointment, and unfulfillment fed into a person where they get to the point where their anger circuits just sort of burn out and they accept disillusionment.

Perhaps I am....perhaps I welcome disillusionment...or rather, maybe it's living in the moment.

Smart enough to realize the other shoe will drop...days will be tough again...

but wise enough to realize today is NOT a bleak day.  Today is beautiful and wonderful.  Today my heart sings and love is abundant.  I have a fantastic relationship with my husband.  My children come home today.  My family is healthy.  My job is stable and dignified.  My spirit is soaring. My confidence is overflowing.  There is money in the bank and a vacation on the horizon.  My friends are loyal and my laughter is frequent.

So sure, I will see dark days -- I've seen them before -- and come out of it to see today.  And BECAUSE of that sadness, difficulty and depression...I will LOVE today.

Jaded...of course...smarter, wiser...and more appreciative of today.

I'll take it.  :)

Dane Patrick -- I love you.

My first born got braces today.

Big whoop-dee-do, huh?

For some reason, it was.

Somehow before my eyes, this child has really blossomed into a most beautiful spirit and I am honored to be able to watch the progression.

Dane has always been a good kid.  His energy, even as a baby, was truly inspiring (not as exhausting as his brothers).  His inquisition and curiosity were blended perfectly with a general wit, a toddler "street-smart" sense, if you will.  I call him an "old soul" because he simply is.  He has a sense of compassion and empathy that you just can't teach.  It's the kind of peaceful patience and understanding that is usually earned through years of hard lessons, painful mistakes and life's setbacks.  But, this kid just has it...in fact, he has always had it.

Today, he is an honest, good natured, kind, smart, athletic, talented, beautiful, well-behaved sixth-grade pre-teen.  That almost sounds like an oxymoron, doesn't it?  Well, not for Dane.

Dane is a star-student.  He has won the Terrific Kid Award at his school.  He is a straight-A student (who even GETS A+s in Science).  He loves to learn -- is passionate about reading.  This kid really does it all -- Student Council, Running Club, Talent Shows, Band, Honor Band, Football, Guitar, Clarinet, Millionaire Club, I could go on and on.  But, what is so super special about this kid (other than the fact that he is mine)...is that he is delicately emotional.  I don't mean that he is a ticking time bomb or an emotional roller-coaster,  but this kid FEELS.  His heart is pure...and golden.  He gets upset when he thinks he has let us down -- a bad test score or stern mom-discipline can make his gorgeous dark brown bambi eyes tear up.  He is fiercely competitive, but with amazing character and sportsmanship.  He was a star on his football team, but always credited his blockers and his quarterback.  He was so proud of himself when he made honor band playing the bass clarinet.  It's the kind of passion a parent dreams they will see in their child.  He is witty and his sense of humor is dry and quick.  He keeps up with the adult conversations (sometimes too well).    And, he's helpful.  He helps his brother with his homework and with his football moves (and with is bloody noses, too.)  He is kind to other kids his age.  And, he loves and helps his "Mama"  (I have no idea when or why he started calling me that...but he does.)  I've said before...and I'll say it again...Dane helped me through the hardest times by being there...hugging me...holding my hand...sometimes...with just a look.
We just found out that he has won the Outstanding Superintendent Citizenship Award for the district.  It's an unbelievable honor that shows other people see his leadership, integrity, kindness, dependability, intelligence and worth.  We will be honoring him and watching him receive the award on the evening of May 16.

Today, as I was driving him to the orthodontist to get his braces, we were laughing and singing.  He had a nervous energy.  Mid song...my boy reaches over and intertwines his fingers in mine (yep, he sits in the front when it's just us.)  We drove the rest of the way -- hand in hand.  As he got on the chair, the orthodontist came over and Dane jumped up, faced him and shook his hand.  I was proud of his respect.  Then, minutes later, as I watched him....with his hands sweetly in his lap and huge feet crossed (showing the hole in his toe)...I actually had a flashback of his life. I stared at him.  A boy...growing up so fast...a blessing in this world...

...and I cried. 

That damn Irish heart just did me in... 

I'm proud of my boy.  I love him.  I'm honored to watch him grow.  He is already my dream come true and I cannot wait to see how his future unfolds....and even when I call him Brace Face....Tin Grin...Metal Mouth... :)

He feels my love in that old soul of his.

He knows.

Veterans....

My husband is a veteran of the United States of America Army.  He served for our country and saw things in war settings that I could never imagine.  He has lost people he knew in that war.  He put his life on the line to help maintain the privileges that we have here in the States.  That means he fought for his family...his friends...his neighbors...for me...for my children...and he fought for YOU.

 

To know Justin is to know that he takes his pride for our country very seriously.  His body (beautiful body that it is) is beautifully adorned with all sorts of tattoos that show his American and Army pride.  He flies the flag, drives a truck with military stickers proudly shown, honors the veterans and respects the men and women in uniform daily.  He always takes Veteran's Day off and brings the boys to the Veteran's Day parade.  He has taught our boys things like respecting the flag (hats OFF, boys!), respecting elders, thanking our veterans for their service, and honoring the land they live on (no littering...ever!) 

I'm beyond proud of him.

That said....  PTSD is a bitch.  Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is a mental health problem that can happen after someone goes through a traumatic event like a war, assault, or disaster.  People who suffer from PTSD can have nightmares, flashbacks, difficulty sleeping, and just feel emotionally numb. What sucks is...these symptoms change their day to day life.  PTSD is seen by both physical and psychological problems.  You will see depression, substance abuse, memory and cognition problems  and other physical and mental health problems. The disorder is also rears it's ugly head in social or family life, including work problems, marital problems and family problems.    Statistics say that 11-20% of Veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars (Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom) will be diagnosed with PTSD.  Diagnosed, people....which is different from the number of soldiers that actually suffer with PTSD undiagnosed. 

Justin has the diagnosis of PTSD.

Yet, we all suffer from it.

I'm not saying that like I'm a martyr either...  but it's true.

The nightmares are crazy.  I can't wake him up.  He is BACK in war and it's completely real to him.  He thrashes and punches and kicks and sweats up a storm.  His breathing is fast...and there is NOTHING I can do to stop them.  :(  Sometimes, I can almost predict them.  A movie...an incident of some sort.  And, sometimes, if I sleep really lightly, I can feel them starting...and if I can wake him THEN, we can avoid them.  Other times I can't. 

And then there are the flashbacks -- and the panic attacks.  Those come out of the blue.  Trash on the road.  Weather.  A noise.  A blowing grocery bag.  A smell.  The landscape.  When we go to Rocky Pointe, there is a stretch of road that ALWAYS triggers it.  The first couple times we didn't realize it was coming.  One time, he was driving -- and he flew us off the road....got out of the car and all but collapsed behind the car in a full out panic attack.  It was terrifying for me...and the boys.  Now we know that I have to drive...and he kicks the seat all the way back...but even then...I can feel his tension and watch as the tears start to fall...all of us in silence.

I cannot fathom what he has seen -- I know very little of it.  I cannot make him better or make it go away.  All I can do is love that man -- with everything inside of me.  All I can do is honor him....let him talk when he wants to -- and be silent when he needs to be.  All I can do is have his back....All I can do is be forever proud of my Army husband and forever grateful to be a citizen of this great country.

I love you, baby.

Two days of me time...

...and I'm not sick of me yet.

It's a great place to be. Silent, but full of thought. Peaceful, but feeling courageous. Alone, but far from lonely.

And, I feel like writing...to the person I was not so long ago -- who was obnoxious, vengeful and terribly isolated. Off the cuff...

Hold on, believe me, there is nothing much to fear
Despite the anger when you look in the mirror.
Times were good and they will be again.
You're merely in the middle; you're nowhere near the end.

Hold on, trust me ,you will look back to this day
And be able to see why things turned out this way
Friends will surround you, laughter will come back
You're merely in the middle, but you're on the right track.

Hold on, believe me soon you'll figure it out
And love will conquer the self-hatred and doubt
You'll grip your foundation and begin to grow
You're merely in the middle, look to tomorrow.

Hold on, trust me, you will rise above the pain
You will reach your dreams and dance again in the rain
You'll look in his eyes and know you've found your safe
place
You're merely in the middle, just pace yourself for the race.

Hold on, believe me, there's so much goodness in your life
You will overcome the sadness, sorrow, and strife
You're boys are watching with pride swelling in their eyes
You're merely in the middle, soon the lows will be highs.

Hold on, believe me, trust me I know
Pray, meditate, learn and let go
There is true happiness and peace around the bend
You're merely in the middle, you're nowhere near the end.

A gentle reminder....to myself...

We all have shortcomings --

and there are a million reasons I have to greatly dislike Sunshine....

yet, as the years pass, I'm reminded of the two reasons I have to greatly love that man....

Dane and Cole.

And I try.....

try ....

try.... to be a better, more loving, compassionate person to the man that gave me those boys...

"we all just want to be happy."

sigh.

Like the top of the Chrysler Building!

(It's a reference to Annie -- about floors, and not backsides, shining...like.....the...top....eh, whatever, if you don't appreciate the reference, screw you.)

Anyway...this blog is about cleaning. Whoopdeedoo! Call all your friends. But, it's been dawning on me lately how very SPOILED I am that I have a husband who loves a clean house -- and even further, likes to make it be so! Justin does a ton of housework around here and while I don't tell him nearly enough, I am very grateful for our equal disdain for a cluttered and/or dirty home. While thinking about it this morning, I laughed. We are definitely a couple that has roles...some are antique and question my firm belief in the woman's movement, while others are just there cause they work and make us happy.

Things we both do:
Work to pay the bills
Love/Play/Dream with the boys
Make the bed
Do the laundry
Cook
Do the dishes
Poop patrol
Feed the dogs

What I do:
Wash the sheets
Put the laundry away
Unload the dishwasher
Clean the boys rooms
Get on my hands and knees for the floors
Toilets
Big shopping trips: Frys/Sam's Club
Throw away garbage in car daily
Takes garbage to garage
pays the bills
Clean out pet cages
Feed the birds and hamster
Make sure it smells yummy (scentsy, air fresheners, etc).


What he does:
Yard work
Clean the garage
Clean the grill
Power wash the patio
Sweep and mop the floors (with enough pinesol to evacuate the household sometimes.)
Change the air filters
Maintenance shopping trips: Home Depot/Ace Hardware
Car Maintenance
Takes garbage from garage to can...can to street...and back up.
Deal with any customer service anything
Windows
Dusting
Feed the fish

...that's all...in a quick glance....and I wanted to say....thank you babe -- for never leaving dishes in the sink, clutter on the counter, dirty clothes on the floor or any of the other things that would drive me to ditch you.

You're a keeper.

Brace Face! Tin Grin! Metal Mouth! Train Tracks!

Just got back from Dane's consultation -- eeegads...

So I made an appt for the 26th...

and emailed Sunshine about money.

(I proposed that he pay the entire monthly payment and start hacking away at his child support arrears. We'll see how that goes over.)

My baby -- in BRACES?

And worse yet...when I was filling out the health history checklist, Dane was watching over my shoulder... He's a healthy tyke, so I'm on a roll checking "no" "no" "no" and one of the questions was, "Has the patient reached puberty?" I check NO.... and Dane clears his throat and says....

"Uh, Mom?" with this smile like I was clearly missing out on the obvious.

My baby -- in PUBERTY?

OH VEY!

This one is for Cole

I love this kid.

I should have known from the minute I found out I was pregnant with him -- actually, maybe I should have known by how difficult it was to even GET that (+). He was a strong willed sperm amongst a million (not a high number) of other sperm that mostly consisted of slow moving, double-headed invalids. (if you ever went through infertility of any sort, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't well...I'm sorry -- or well, I'm not, well hell...you know what I mean.) He was determined. And then there was a pregnancy wrought with worry and fear. Doctors and specialists fearing one thing after another -- first his heart, then the Downs markers, then the fluid levels. We were tested and monitored til we were blue in the face (and in the spirit.) Yet on 3/10/2003, a most perfect, most beautiful, most blue eyed beauty entered my life and forever changed my world as I knew it. I was madly in love.

I still am.

He was a great baby and made it easy for me to appear like I had it all together in the most wonderful June Cleaver kind of way. He was adaptable and sweet. He was happy being busy -- silent in a crowd -- most peaceful when the music was loud and dogs were barking. He was WIDE AWAKE and angry during the quiet times (no sleeping for him). He was just living the only way that made him comfortable.

And he still does.

Only now? It's not nearly as appealing or cute. In fact, many times it's down right difficult. I like to call him my "spirited one." He is Cole. He is fantastically individual and personable. He has his own attitude and doesn't like to back down. He is stubborn and brilliant (and maddening). He transitions well -- no behavior problems at school (in fact, the opposite) and house hopping (as a glorious divorce will grant your children) seems effortless for him. However, when he comes home to me, he is clingy and adorable. He sits on top of me, kisses me, tells me he loves me a million times -- and gets jealous of anyone in my space. This goes for his brother, my husband, our dogs, you name it.

The last year has been increasingly "spirited" on the home front -- especially, at Sunshine's, apparently. From the stories I hear, to the excuses his Dad makes - it's safe to say that he is grossly misunderstood and treated to feel like his "spirit" should be dulled. It saddens me and hurts my heart. See, Cole is a lot like I was as a child. I never sat still. I was all over the place with this energy in my body that soared through my veins. It got me in trouble too. So I'm a bit softer on him than I really should probably be. I understand that corporal punishment is not the way to treat this "spirit" in fact it makes the "spirit" fight back. Cole is NOT like his brother -- who a stern voice and "mom" look makes him cry and retreat. Cole attacks the attacker. Without getting into psycho-analytic babble, Cole needs positive reinforcement. In two households that were raised on "spare the rod, spoil the child" mentality, he's basically screwed.

That said -- I am working with him. I am getting him to understand the benefits of good behavior. We talk a lot -- just me and him. I would like to believe that he feels safe with me. I'm a balance I believe he desperately needs and an understanding ear. I tell him that I was JUST LIKE HIM and try to make him see NOW how much easier life could be if he could channel his energy into something positive. I tell him repeatedly how beautiful his spirit is and how lucky we are to have him. I try to build him up.

Yesterday, I was at work. Cole was "spirited" as all get out, from what Justin and Dane told me. When he was asked to go pick up dog poop, Cole revolted in some crazy anarchy 9 year old way. Justin sent him to his room....and he stayed in there for a couple hours (on his own really, but still). When he asked to come out, Justin took away video games for the day. All of them. Computer. Wii. DS. Apparently, the "spirit" came out again....which wound up in total TWO WEEKS of no video games. I was 30 miles away and I could almost hear his "spirit." (And, let's face it... TWO WEEKS punishes ME too....) I was a bit afraid of what I was facing when I was going to get home.

That said....I called to check in a little while later. My husband was mopping the floor (more on that later *grin*). My eldest was playing on the computer. My baby?...Quietly writing a story.

!!!?????

When I got home, Cole was SO EXCITED to show me his story. Sure, he only wrote one chapter (a page and a half)...but it was ANIMATED and BEAUTIFUL. He has props and acted it out as he read. He was PROUD and HAPPY. And, literally folks, I cried. I had the greatest happiest tears in my eyes...that my husband is strong enough to challenge his spirit without breaking him (or backing down)....that his SPIRIT was DANCING. You could see the wheels turning as he told me about ideas for the next chapter. He was WRITING! He was creating a story and expressing himself in his beautiful words.

He is JUST like his Mom.

And my spirit is PROUD!

"Keep 'em coming"....

That's what Justin's sister says when it comes to her children. She is SO amazing....Here she is...with her husband...and 10 kids...3 biologically her own -- and 7 others -- all fostered and then adopted... 2 sibling groups included....age doesn't matter....race doesn't matter...money doesn't matter... what matters first and utmost? GOD'S VOICE. What matters second? LOVE.

I'm HONORED to be part of such an amazing family.

VERY emotional today

....almost feels like I'm a girl.

:)

So, it was my birthday yesterday...facebook is good like that...reminds every random person to tell you "happy birthday." It was awesome. People OUT of the woodwork!

and somehow I focus on those I didn't hear from....not in some ridiculous way...just missed....

like my dad. Not that I expected a call from the beyond...but I crave a kiss on the forehead....and just always think of my parents...and "what they were doing..."

CRAZY....

my mom...."facebooked" me.... another "welcome to my world" does that count? It should...because that woman loves me...I mean REALLY LOVES ME...faults and all...and her "welcome to my world" comment was the very first words I spoke to my own children.... I wonder if she knows that?

like my brothers and sister....I got a "happy birthday" email from Rick...but NOTHING from Kelly or Johnny....leaves me wondering if I am too old for that? Kerry emailed, texted AND came out with me after work. :)

I worked yesterday -- and they knew that....and Justin sent me a wonderful fruit bouquet.... we all devoured. We went out last night....and drank like I was 21. OUCH

I love my friends and family -- and feel a little fragile today.

I sent a another patient to hospice yesterday. His family was just like mine. Large.,...annoying...demanding.....lost. :) I looked in his eyes and LOVED THIS MAN.....(I've only been his nurse for two days!) He had a major stroke which left him completely aphasic (he couldn't talk) and right side deficit....but don't FOR ONE SECOND think that man didn't know what was going on OR that his LEFT hand wouldn't tell you! He was a truck driver by trade, I came to find out. A father of 5 (and maybe 2 others, LOL, his son told me).... A brutal, hard, difficult man (I was told).... Just recently with a major bipass and endarectomy...and threw a fucking clot and was found unresponsive at the rehab unit....yet when the family left the room to arrange hospice details, he tried to haul his body OUT of the bed after them...and I held his strong hand....telling him everything that was happening...

"I know you are frustrated....probably scared."
"you are in the hospital...you had a major stroke."
"Your family is amazing...a true testament to you as a man."
"Be proud of them. Be okay that your wife is OK..you made it be so..."
"I know you understand me, I know you hate this. I know."

....and he cried.

....and I cried.

And, I cry yet today....right now....thinking of this beautiful family struggling right NOW. Watching the man that led thefamily (at least financially..come on...we all know the woman does everything...LOL)...die. Watching the man that loved their Mom...and made it be that HE DID EVERYTHING FOR HER.... die. Watching them be scared....all of them in different stages...some of them wanting more, some of them wanting it over.....And I think of my own dad's death....and my insignificant wondering if anyone cared... PLEASE don't hate them for wanting "it over".....it....is...the MOST difficult thing....EVER....being honored enough to watch them die...

I hugged each of them...and felt the weight of their saddess with every fiber in my body...each....one....

truth is....

...life goes on....

and I remember vividly walking into the elevator after my dad died....a little relieved and guilty to be so...."and now there were 6" from my mom...and every single sound as I got into my car....next to the throw up from mere hours previous... I actually got LOST driving back to my parents house...in a town I've lived in ALL MY LIFE. (side note....I feel sick to my stomach remembering.)

Oh Dad....please welcome him....Russ....I called him "Russ"

and please bless his family....

...and somehow let people know...like you just did....that is DOES matter....to even the insignificant.....

...as I sit here...his nurse...that sealed his fate, made him DNR...and sent him to hospice....

I did celebrate my birthday last night -- 37 years old. He smiled when I told him it was my birthday (half a smile...got a point on the NIH scale for that)....he squeezed my hand tight...I know he wished me a "happy birthday"...I know.

I sit here in tears....

...wondering if this is the right profession for me...

....I sit here in tears....

...thinking of Russ.

Sick obsession or something....

I have a slight fascination with death -- I can't lie. My family and good friends all just know that it's part of me. I don't really know when it started...or, for that matter, why. I think it probably jumped a few notches when my friend, Aaron died when we were in high school. Simply knowing that I was suppose to be there with him and that I was one of the last people to talk to him has forever changed my thinking of "coincidence" and "timing." His death absolutely changed me.

When myspace was the rage, I found mydeathspace.com -- which was a running total of dead myspacers -- then they added myspacers that murdered on this uber cool map of the world. Black means dead myspacer (it links you to their page) and red meant murderer myspacer (also a link.) I was beside myself....and spent hours on that damn site. Intrigued. My friend, Angela, and I made a pact that if we died we would submit each other (sealed with a kiss of account login and password details.) Now facebook has taken over -- but no one has created a death face book... perhaps that will be my ticket to the money tree. facesofdeathbook.com (I gotta search if that domain is available.)

I read the obituaries every day, too...not for any particular reason...just cause I'm alive to read them, I suppose. It use to be that I looked for people I knew (or grandparents of those people)...or for those close to my age. I even came up with a game in which I would get an extra point for an article in the newspaper regarding a death -- and an obit on that person -- in the same paper, same day. That would get me 2 points. 2 points to what? no clue! But it was a bonus point, never the less. Since I've become a nurse, and my population has a higher likelihood of dying, I look for names I know. And, it happens. (and I get an extra point.) I had a journal entry somewhere years ago where I wrote my obituary and it was amazingly crazy. It prioritizes your life. If I die today, I hope it will say: (off the cuff...)

Kristen's life and love revolved around her children, Dane and Cole. They are
her dream come true and the song in her heart. Every day she loved them and told
them....everyday...over and over and over again. There is NOTHING these boys
can't do -- and she told them that, everyday.
Kristen's life was blessed with the love of two men: The father of her children (Joel Nusbaum) and the owner of her heart, her husband, her best friend, her partner in crime, the person that made her laugh and loved her the most, Justin Essary.
Kristen loved her family incredibly and was proud of the Beiriger and Kealy blood that pumped through her body (She was a stubborn German with blubbering Irish eyes, crying mostly during the great times.)
Kristen 's loyalty and pride lied with her family (Dad, Mom, Johnny, Erin,
Rick, Cliff, Kelly, Thomas, Kerry, Travis, Keegan, and Connor) and she embraced
her "other family" which included in-laws, old and new friends and coworkers.
Kristen loved hard and fast, was fun and forgiving, silly and sarcastic
(perhaps sadistic - ha!), passionate and public, honest and ornery, but most of
all...she knew who she was.
A wife. A mother. A daughter. A sister. An Aunt.
A godmother. A cousin. A friend. A nurse. A survivor. A compassionate soul.
She hopes that she is kicking back with her dad, aunt, uncle, Aaron, and the
other's that have passed (and maybe conceding to her dad and having a Schlitz)
and watching the movies of YOUR life unfold...
Until you meet her again...
Be kind to each other.
We all just want to be happy.

"Some of it's magic

and some of it's tragic,

but I had a good life

all the way." (Kristen Kealy, via Jimmy Buffett)

(something like that...)

I was honored to write my father's obit...I was proud of it -- but made a cardinal obit. sin of omitting how he died...I guess I was wrapped up in my dad...I figured EVERYONE KNEW he died of cancer. (you might want to add that I'm conceded and egotistical in my obit...when I die. Seriously. LOL) But be sure you add how I did in there somewhere.

Anyway -- I just spent the last few hours reading about those on death row in Arizona. There is an execution set to take place on 2.29.2012. I will be a year older and this man will die. Irony. But on this site...it tells you what they did...what their court history was...mitigating circumstances...and death date. If you search farther...you can find those that have died...and for some reason and big part of all the documentation is what their last meal was...

Why these brutal murderers care about food is beyond me -- or why we give them it, baffles me too... (I'm guessing it's some sort of governmental scam to try to act like we care...but never the less...) Seriously caught myself LAUGHING at last meal requests....

here is what I would request:
medium rare fillet
baked potato -- sour cream and chives
crab legs with a lot of butter and lemon juice...
cheese and crackers
jar of pickles
sauerkraut
cheese pizza (yes I'm serious, you can ask for all this)
cheesecake
apple pie with vanilla ice cream
and a keg of Coors Light...(OK, I'm guessing you can't get alcohol...right?) but if that's the case... a gallon of milk (slightly frozen) and a case of Coke.

Some jackoff murderer asked for Diet Pepsi -- what?!

You don't believe me do you....check it out for yourself: http://www.azcorrections.gov/inmate_datasearch/Minh_NewDeathRow.aspx

If I'm ever on death row (I won't be, relax...) It won't be "dead man walking..." It will be like,

"DEAD BITCH ROLLING!"

I have been so busy....I hate busy.

...yet I live it -- day in and day out.

Work, school, papers, deadlines, a wife, a mom, 2 busy kids, soccer x2, honor band, running club, Sister Moses play, fieldtrips, homework, playdates, heartbreaks, homework, friendships, drama, disappointment, thrills, laughter, concerts, dates, golf tournaments, jacuzzis, schenanigans, bikerides, weeds, poop patrol, dinner, dishes, laundry, taxi driver, maid, monster, reader, writer, singer, biter (lol)

...and it goes on.

I like to live a full life, but I want stillness too.

This morning I was talking on the phone to my sister, making breakfast for the chitlins and trying to figure out the day. School and a trip to Walmart to get Cole's sport goggles. I'll get Dane from parent pickup and take him to honor band practice. My sister will get Cole and take him to the running club race (remember to pack shorts and energy bar). I will meet them at the park. Then I will take Cole and my nephews, pick up Dane. We will rush home and get Cole ready for soccer, to which we will then go to. Nephews will get picked up from there. Rush home. Dinner. Bedtime. Cole will just have to miss an "eye patch day" we simply are running out of time. Then I realize we must HURRY because the bus leaves to take Cole to his two daytime showtimes of Sister Moses. I yell to Dane...and we all hustle and bustle, leaving the house...late.

I'm a block from school -- and we're running over the schedule. And, I see a woman -- I'd say 70s -- in a bathrobe...laying on her driveway.

And we stop.

Turns out she fell trying to get the paper.

Cars, buses, vans passing her by -- kids and their parents walking, biking and cruising by.

And we stop.

She tells me her right knee is a replaced and "the damn left one just went out." I offer to call the ambulance - she refuses. I look her over and ask her if she has a walker, a chair, or anything to help get her up. She tells me to open the door and scream for her hard of hearing husband.

"AL!!!! AL!!!!" a few minutes goes by and he stumbles out of his room, terrified to find a disheveled and pajama clad women screaming his name (might be someone's fantasy, but not Al's.) He scurries to dress and hustles outside.

In a hurry.

I've gotten the woman a blanket (she's cold, on the driveway -- she told me for at least 15 minutes). I've assessed her and she is fine, just embarrassed.

Al and I get her up slowly and walk her inside to sit down. I look her over again...She's okay. She promises she will use her walker.

With tears in his eyes he blesses me and calls me their angel.

With tears in her eyes she tells me, "I'm grateful the Lord made you stop. And that you listened."

After we're in the car and on our way.

Cole is inquisitively looking outside the window with his mouth wide open and says, "It's okay if I'm late and miss the bus, I'm glad we stopped."

Dane has a sweet and proud smile and says, "Mom, thank you for stopping."

Moral of the story:
S T O P.

(edited to add: he made the bus)