The End of the Road.............

I am writing this, whether I ever publish it or not, because it's 2 in the morning and I can't sleep.

This has been a very strange year for me.  The highs and lows have been higher and lower than usual and both came at the same time this year in my life.

I knew this year would bring my first grandchild, my own little Charli-girl, and I awaited this birth with what seems to be more excitement than the births of my own children.  I know this can't be true, but when you have your own you are dreading the last step, eager as you may be to get it over with.  With grandchildren there is no dread at all, just eager anticipation for it to happen.  This child has never been far from my mind, since I found out she was coming.  I have, in fact, been waiting for this child for several years before she was a fact in all our lives.

Tonight her mother labors, and her father stands watch, and tomorrow I do believe she will arrive.

The reason I can't sleep has nothing to do with this happy news, though.  The reason I cannot sleep is because in my heart I am sitting vigil for one of my best friends, Lori.  Lori has been fighting cancer for 2 years, and her battle is just about over.  I suppose you could say she lost that battle, but no one who knew Lori will say that.  Lori lost very few battles on this earth and even in this, she decided when she would go.  A more valiant effort I cannot imagine.  No amount of morphine could erase her urge to get up and visit every time I was there.  I would beg her to stay down and just let me rub her feet, but no.  She would insist on getting up, even when she could no longer manage that on her own, and once in the kitchen she would offer me something to drink.  She would ask if I had eaten.  She would then ask about the kids.  No amount of drugs could make her forget her manners.   Lori was a lady, right down to her toes, right to the end.

Many times she has saved me, though she never knew it.  She was the kind of person who did everything "right", whether anyone would ever know or not.  For her pure soul, all that mattered was that God knew.  Like her mother and her grandmother before her, she lived her faith every minute of every day of her life.

It often showed itself in the smallest ways.  I have seen her get fighting mad over a suggestion that she salvage lettuce  that was a little over the hill.  This was absolutely out of the question and the person who suggested that Lori do such a thing was actually glad to drive to town for fresh lettuce rather than face her wrath.  I still laugh and think it served them right.

Whenever I found myself unsure of what to do, say, or wear, I would just pretend I was Lori, and do it the way she would.  She was the kind of girl who did not consider animals less than humans, and treated all souls the exact same way.

 I remember one time going to see her, when she excused herself to feed the dog.  I thought it would only take as long as scooping out a cup of food into a bowl, like I do, but it took longer than that.  When I went to check on her, she was mixing up the food with some scraps, stirring in a raw egg (for the dog's coat) and adding cheese (for extra flavor).  Then she served that dog a meal just the same way she would have served me or anyone else, hoping and watching for signs that it was good.  It was, and I hope you will not doubt my word that even the dog knew Lori was a fine lady, because nobody, even the kindest person on earth (which Lori may actually have been) had ever served that dog a meal like that before.  Sure we feed our dogs, but do we feed them with a flourish?  Every time?  I think not.

Her attention to detail was part of her, and her work ethic was golden.  I don't care if your house, your car, or your self fell apart, Lori would be there.  She would know exactly what to do, how to do it, and how long it would take.  She was beautiful, but never seemed to know it.  She had a spirit that was much bigger than her body, and would crawl under a house to fix a broken pipe or under a car to fix (whatever you fix under there--don't ask me, I am no Lori) without a second's hesitation, and would be happy just to help you.  If she hosted a dinner, the table would be set with special little touches that only Lori would think of.  If someone treated you badly, all you had to do was tell her the story and she would immediately feel outrage and injustice, do and say all the things I wished that I had thought of to say at the time.  She guided me and she comforted me.  We laughed, cried, ran wild, grew up, worried and railed against injustice together for 31 years and I am just devastated that I will be without her physical presence here from now on.  The only time I remember ever guiding her was when her dear sweet mother had Alzheimers.

So even though I sit here crying at 2 in the morning in my son's house, waiting for a baby, I am also sitting by her, in her mother's house, and I am loving her and wishing her a peaceful passing without fear.  I know that her mother waits for her baby to return to her just like I wait for Charli.  I know that Lori will be joyful to see her mom again, and I know that she will always be with me in my heart.  I will miss her terribly but I will see her again. There is very little we haven't weathered together and it is a bitter pill that she will not see my grandchildren the same way she saw my babies.  It was Lori that sat with my mother during The Rock Star's birth, and was there to help after we got home.  Though I feel lost and lonely without those two ladies, I know exactly what to do and they will be ever present in me while I tend to my precious duties.  I will never say goodbye.  There is no need when they are in my heart all the time.

When we met were just teenagers.  We made big plans, as teenagers will.  Some of those plans came true, and some of those plans fell through, and now at the end of this road we have traveled together all I am is grateful.  I sat in the living room watching her in a hospital bed positioned where her mother always kept her quilt rack, and reflected on how I never imagined this, of all the things I did imagine in that room.  You never know what life holds in store, and even though I am happy about that, still I was grateful to be able to be there and lend what comfort I could.

Yes, grateful.  Tonight when I went to sleep, even though I was crying, I thanked God for her life, for letting me be part of it, and for her wonderful family that has been a blessing to me, whether they have known it or not.  The love and devotion, the square jawed, fearless facing of the music, the rock solid faith, the good sense and the bravery of that family, I am so grateful to have known and been a part of.

In the last few months, Lori, the baby of the family, could not have been more cherished.  One day she complained about a tree in her view of the lake behind the house.  One of her brothers promptly cut it down, stacked it for firewood and cleaned up any stray splinters left to mar the grass.  Anything they could cook or buy for her, it was done without a thought.  I am grateful also for those "kids" getting to spend time in the house they grew up in, looking after their baby sister, as a family again.  I cannot even put into words how it makes you feel to see your best friend's brother dissolve his sister's pills in water and tenderly give them to her with a baby dropper, because it hurts her too much to swallow.   Such unconditional love, and done as if it's the most natural thing in the world.  It is, actually, the most natural thing in the world, and I don't know how we forget that.  I hope I never do again.

It is so easy to lose touch when you have your own families and obligations.  Only when death threatens us do we ever get to go back and be just who we are within our own family.  It's a comfort that there is no substitute for, and I know her parents are so very proud.  I know because if you ever mention it,  to any one of 6 children, they will all say the credit goes to their parent and the way they were raised.  And this will just multiply and go on and on, and so shall those of us left here.  For nothing can ever keep someone you love from you, certainly not death.  In fact, Lori has been in my head and my heart for 3 decades, and that will never change, not in this world and not in the next, where I know we will meet again, along with our mothers.

I have felt our mother's both close lately, and it cannot be denied that the portal is open.  I have known for months that this was going to happen.  I tried to spend as much time with Lori as I could, but now that it is imminent and she may need me most, I cannot be there with her physically.  I tell myself it doesn't matter, and I know in reality it does not.  She is well taken care of, and surrounded by her loved ones, and I am there in spirit.  I feel split in two, but I know both our mother's are surrounding us, and our mother's have been together in heaven for a while now, so it feels like we are all together spiritually, even if our physical locations on earth may be far apart at the moment.  Physical locations on earth mean very little in the spiritual world, and God's law reigns supreme.  I know this in my head and in my heart, and I am comforted no matter what happens next because I know God is in control.

When my mother was in Lori's situation, she told me that she asked God to live, but God said no.  She smiled a sad smile and said, "He does that, you know, and all we can do is say Okay, God, I will do what you ask."  I knew it was true, and I accepted it, hard as it was.  I didn't like it, but it was an important step in my life.  I watched her set an example of serenity that I thought I could never follow, but what do you know, here I am, stressed, yes, sad, yes, but also joyful and grateful.  Grateful for getting these two fine ladies for as long as I did.  Losing them could never hurt so bad that I would not be grateful to have had them for as long as I got to.

My advice is this:  Never make the mistake of praying for things you want.  God knows what you want and he is not Santa Claus.  When you pray you should be praying for Him to use you as He sees fit.  Sometimes you have to swallow a bitter pill and just have faith that God knows what he is doing,  If you can't do that then I guess it's easy to see where you should begin.

Tomorrow, those of us left shall take up our crosses and follow Him, and life will go on and we will be better for what we have been through.  We will set our own examples for our children and those around us, in this way we teach what we have learned, and it will multiply.  It will come back to them when it is time, and they will do as their parents taught them, when it is most needed.

There are times in life when you will have something terrible and scary coming right for you.  Plant your feet, set your jaw, and face it head on.  You are not alone, and if it wasn't God's plan, you would not be going through it.  Believe it.  You are not alone, in fact, you are so far from alone as to make that downright laughable.  When you open the door and all you see is black, do not be afraid to take that step anyway, knowing God is there.  He's known black since before there was even light, and He has already taken care of that a long time ago anyway.  There is nothing you can think of that He cannot handle.  Let that be a comfort to you, it has always worked for me.

In a few days I will make that drive again, with nothing but joy in my heart.  Nothing lasts forever, but one thing I know for certain is that you can't make old friends, and they will always be a part of you.

Lori graduated this earth on July 20, at 8 am on Sunday morning.  My uncle John followed her the very next day, and I know our families in heaven are together there just as those left of us here will be together paying them tribute.

Grading My Life......

School's out and my mind is cast back to the days when this meant you got grades that reflected what you had accomplished, or not.  Those days are gone, of course, but  it has had me ruminating on accomplishments and the tangible evidence of them in our lives.

Grades are no longer a good example, any more than promotions or raises are now.  In the olden days, you not only got graded on your school work, but later, in your career, promotions and raises took the place of grades for your lifetime accomplishments.  Unfortunately, Affirmative Action took those away too.  Now having a job only means that they needed a person of a certain age, gender, etc. and you filled the slot.  It can be very depressing because so many jobs seem to have absolutely nothing to do with your effort or worth.

Just because we live in a world now lacking tangible proof of accomplishment does not mean our lives are without accomplishments.  It just means it's up to us to keep improving, a lesson we should not need to be taught to us.

Stay at home mom's have the hardest job in the world simply because most of what they do is never noticed, graded, promoted, raised, or even thought about consciously.

Sometimes what seems to be a dark period turns out, in retrospect, to be a period where you got your most intense training, without which, you would have never been strong enough to have made it through.  It's hard to find the words that are capable of conveying this.  Trying to explain how being isolated and working ceaselessly at small tasks for no pay, sense of accomplishment OR lasting results is like trying to tell a friend about a bad dream: only when you say it out loud does it sound crazy.  This can leave you in a awkward position socially, but it will never leave you in an awkward position spiritually-speaking.

At some point, and I'm pretty sure that point is middle-age, barring a wake-up call from cancer or some other life-threatening disease or disaster, we take stock of ourselves.  Not because we think we will get a raise or even recognition, but just because we accomplish milestones in our lives, and are disappointed or proud of ourselves, and hold ourselves to account.   At least, we should. Our lives pass us by on a daily basis.  If you don't wonder how you are measuring up, I wonder about you, and so, probably, does your mom.

Recently, during a visit with a dear, old friend, she said these words "When my mother died, it changed my life.  It changed everything about my life, and what I found worth in."  I felt the truth of those words in my soul.  Losing your mother, assuming that your mother is not an addled drug addict or abusive alcoholic, is probably the biggest life changing event that will ever happen to you that you expect to happen.  Cancer can come to be seen as a gift, with all the time to get things in order and pay up accounts and say lasting goodbyes.  But you are never prepared for the death of a parent, never, simply because you have never, ever, for one moment up until that time, known life on earth without them.  No matter how you prepare, you will feel like someone has jerked the covers off you in the middle of the night, vulnerable and not equal to the task.  You will feel like you now have to take a huge, long test, and did not remember to study.  How could you not?  Love them or loath them, your parent is always the call you could make, if you had to.  The last best bet, even if you would rather bite your tongue off instead of ask, again, for help.  Your parent will be the last person to help you, again, simply because they love you.  That's the thing about love, it just is, regardless of making sense, and few people ever do anything to actually deserve it.  It just is.

In the 9 years since my mom died, I have set various areas of self improvement for myself.  My mother was very private and non-invasive, polite, deeply spiritual, and gave little away in regard to her personal feelings unless there was a reason for her to do so.  I was always the exact opposite, louder, more opinionated, unconcerned with how I appeared to other people, a bit abusive on occasion,  and wore my heart on my sleeve.  Anyone who didn't like it, well, that was their problem, not mine.   She thought I was brave.  I thought she was wise.  Between the two of us we made the perfect woman.  Were we really brave and wise?  Sometimes.  But the thing about life is that sometimes it is more important to believe in something being true than it actually being a fact.  Without her quiet grace to balance out my bold brashness, I felt imbalanced, expose, and terrified.  Unequal to the task ahead, and for the rest of my life!  I realized how much balance her quiet obedience had always given me, and frankly, without her I felt I better get myself together and start acting like a grown up.

I will never forget the moment I realized that I was on my own, even though my mother was still living.  It was as I entered the dreaded Wal Mart, and some child was having a kicking, screaming good old fashioned temper tantrum, blocking the door.  This seemed like such a small problem to me, at the time, that I almost envied the young mother, red of face and sweaty of body, who was trying to be forceful with her child but keep from being turned in to DFS for "abuse" simultaneously, a fine line for poor parents these days.  Suddenly I went from being serenely sure that I would jerk that kid up and go into the bathroom and soundly paddle that little butt, to realizing that should I give into the (great, powerful, and ever increasing) urge to throw a kicking, screaming, fit of my own, that the only people who would show up would be the police, and even they would probably draw straws for that call.  It's true.  Police do not enjoy this aspect of their jobs, not that I blame them for this.  They signed up to fight crime, not haul off adults who lose control and have temper tantrums in public places.

In other words, I was on my own.  Despite preparation, meditation, prayer, and practical lessons learned along the way, I didn't really feel like I knew squat.  Deep down, I was as scared as I've ever been.  I could see it coming, clearly, and yet there was not one thing I could do to stop it or change it in any way.  Each life has these moments.  Know that they will come, and try your hardest to be ready.  This is my advice now, and it was the only thing I could think to do at the time; not because I was so smart, either, it's nothing more that a survival technique.

The areas I set for myself to improve upon were 1) the elimination of participation in gossip and 2) having more faith that God was truly in control.

It was only 2 areas, but they are two of the biggies, at least in my life.

Eliminating the participation of gossip in my life was relatively easy.  It was one of the parts I hated most when my mother was ill, but I had always hated it.  I bet you know what I'm talking about, too.  You know the way  some people get a light in their eye when they hear something "juicy", which actually really means "hurtful" to someone else and how they can't wait to blaze off and be the first to tell others?  Always a turn off for me.  During my teen years this was one of the ways in which to manipulate others the easiest.  Gossip, for teens or adults similarly emotionally undeveloped, is a currency whose value never decreases, and it's always welcome almost anywhere.  Almost.  I launched a tactic to keep it out of my life, and it has been very successful.

I will never forget how horrible it was to be caught buying groceries, then have someone who seemed to mean well ask about my mother, and then be struck by what to say that could not be bent, however innocently, to come back to my mother's ears, causing pain.  My favorite reply to "How is your mom?" became "Still alive."  It was true and was as much as I was willing to give anyone, because I strongly felt that it really wasn't any of their business anyway.  This may have been a poor attitude to have, I freely admit it, but once you have someone come up and blurt out the most hurtful fact of your life and are so taken by surprise that you immediately fall apart in tears, you may understand that poor attitude a little bit better.  I hope that never happens to you, actually.  It should never happen to anyone, but it does, continually.

So one day I just quit listening to the filth.  I started saying things like "I don't want to hear this", only to have some poor wretch with nothing to offer but hurtful gossip about other people say "That's what I heard!", seriously.  Let's parse semantics for a moment, something I usually avoid.  By saying "that's what I heard", the person is absolving themselves from any responsibility for truth while at the same time trying to entice you into listening, since it's not to be taken literally, it's "just a rumor".  I replied with "Be that as it may, I really don't want to hear it."  This may be too bold for some.  It requires a level stare and no blinking, and it your eyes can shoot lasers out it really helps.  Even with just the level stare and no blinking it usually causes visible signs of upset, like sweating and rapid blinking, followed by rapid changes of subject.  Those are just the immediate results.  Long term it will have the wretches avoid your presence like the plague, which I find immensely freeing.  You trips to Wal-Mart will forever be improved.  The best response, though, when a tidbit has been tossed into your lap, is to use the level stare and no blinking, and say "That's your business?" in a convincing, sincere tone that manages to convey that you generally think well of that person and you are resisting thinking badly of them.  It works almost every time.  If it doesn't work, then you are dealing with the very most obtuse of the wretches, and stepping over that line and actually shaming them with a tongue lashing, especially in a public place, should earn you the equivalent of a medal of honor.  If you choose to take this step, I commend you, and want you to know that you are doing a service for continued, as of yet unknown, generations, who will hopefully be spared the hurt that wretches like this can cause, if taken seriously.  Not that they are usually taken too seriously, even by the people who listen politely, not yet in touch with their inner God/Goddess of hell fire.  Sooner or later, you will be in this position.  It is my prayer for you that you will be the injured one, not the injuring one, and that you will be prepared to take action.

The only downside to this change in my life is that I often am unaware of people having gotten divorces and remarried, or having had other painful scandals in their personal lives.  I'm good with that, as I assume if they feel obliged to share their troubles with me, then I will do everything I can to help them reach peace with it.  I just draw the line at their own troubles, though, and not anyone else's.  It has worked out well for me, and cleared my life of much filth that used to cause drama and heartache in my life.  I don't miss it, and I can't recommend minding your own business highly enough.  At least give conscientious thought to what comes out of your mouth.  Is it true?  Is it kind?  Is it any of your business?  Will saying it out loud to this particular person help or hurt?  I hope it turns into a grass roots effort.  There are entirely too many wretches out there, and it would not take that much to clean them up.

On having more faith that God is truly in control, this one is trickier.  It's easy as long as things go well, but something always happens.  It may be financial, emotional, or physical, but things occasionally happen that just take you out at the knees.  When these things happen, we are confused, often they do not make logical sense, and they leave you so afraid that you realize you want to have faith that God is truly in control more than you actually believe that God is truly in control.  You rationalize that if this is truly happening, then God must want you to go through it.  But it's not fair, you feel victimized, you wonder what you did to deserve this thing that has happened.  I've had a lot of experience dealing with whether or not you deserve things, and it takes some brutal self honesty and examination to accept responsibility for contributing to circumstances.  I will let you work that one out for yourself, but that is a bitter pill of truth.  We all have to take some, do not feel like the Lone Ranger.  I usually get really down and feel in despair, and then what I call my "F-U attitude" kicks in and I go through a period of rebelliousness and something inside me just stands up and says  "Well, troops, we may be down, but we are not beat yet, and we will not go down without a fight."   It carries me through and over the hump of the despair and that's when I realize that what faith really is; choosing to believe.  It's choosing to believe that, despite these trying circumstances, God  really is in control, and while it may be hard to go through, there has to be a reason.  Even if we don't know what that reason is.  Even if that reason does not come to us clearly for years, or even never.  It's choosing to believe, despite evidence.  We are not promised understanding, we are asked to trust and obey.  That can be the scariest thing in the world, but if God be for us, who can really be against us?  If you don't believe that, then I can tell you what your problem is, and the good news is, it's fixable!  It really is that simple, and I think we do ourselves a disservice when we have the arrogance to expect to understand.  Arrogance is unique to human beings, and certainly has it's uses, but ultimately is almost always our undoing.  My advice is to humble yourself, pray for the peace that passeth understanding, and make sure you are in touch with it every single day of your life. You never know what waits around the bend, and no human yet has been prepared for everything.

I am feeling very proud of the work I have done and the progress I have made.  Unlike our jobs in this life, our "work" has no set hours or tangible finish lines, promotions, or rewards on this earth.  Yet, our "work" is what we are here to do.  Choose freely but choose wisely, it all counts in one way or another.  Sometimes, when I take my measure, spiritually speaking, I think God uses us right where we are, all the time.  I really do believe that.  Let's make the most of it.

Just Like Old Times.....

I have been a bad blogger.  Well, it's winter, and as you know I would rather be hibernating.

Recently, I kept both Abigail and 4 month old Adriana while their parents went out for a few hours.  We are calling Adriana "Rose", and she is quite fetching.  She is at the age where if you happen to catch her eye, she grins and it spills out of her, washes all the way down and she giggles and waves her hands and feet.  I am, naturally, very taken with her.

We got a long famously...... until we didn't.  She may have been hungry, I don't really think so, but as she didn't settle down, I warmed up a bottle.  This is no small feat when you are dealing with frozen breast milk, but I got it ready and offered it to her.

Bless her little heart, she has so far learned that when she wants her mother, and therefore to be fed, all she has to do is cry a little.  Well, she cried, I offered her the bottle, and she cried some more.  Abigail dove into action and performed all her tricks.  Her tricks did not work either.  That night Rose learned an important life lesson which was captured perfectly by the Rolling Stones in the song You Can't Always Get What You Want.

Miss Rose ratcheted herself up louder and louder.  She got to the point where she was stiff as a board, she made little fists, and she screamed for all she was worth.  Personally I had to admire her tenacity.  This girl already shows signs of deep commitment and the courage of her convictions.  I think she is going to be one to watch.  She doesn't give up easily and compromise is not yet in her repertoire.

At one point, early on, Abigail started screaming too, I guess figuring that she was speaking her sister's language.  I got that stopped.  Abigail decided she would brush my hair "for" me at this point, and I let her. I was holding screaming Rose, bouncing on the edge of the bed, and when Abigail brushes your hair, you are not allowed to turn your head. It went along pretty good until I turned my head and she caught the brush in my earring.  No harm done, but no more brushing my hair either.

Poor Shadow, who you may already know pretty much runs this house, about lost her mind.  I wish I would have thought to take a picture of her eyes because they were pouring empathy out by the bucketful.  She would look at the baby and then look at me, like "What should we do?  Why don't you know what to do?"  Jack just laid on the floor and sighed a lot.

At one point My Youngest Baby got up and said "I can't take this", and I actually laughed out loud.

When this happened with my own babies, I felt just like poor Shadow, which is to say, I felt like I should be able to figure it out and stop it immediately.  You get better with practice, of course, and by the time the twins were born I was much better at it.  But My Youngest Baby was a child who could not settle down if he could see or hear ANYTHING.  I finally figured out that if I put him in the bassinet, draped a receiving blanket over the top so that he could not see any visual stimulants, and then rolled him in by the dishwasher that the gentle WHOOSH.......WHOOSH.......WHOOSH of it would lull him to sleep.  I once saw a commercial for a dishwasher that made no noise (so they said) and thought that would be a bad choice.  It would have been for me, anyway.  I told him that story and he looked at me like there was no way that could possibly be true.

About 20 minutes into the end of the world as we know it, I called Rose's mom and Daddy told me that Rose prefers her bottles warmer than I probably realized.  It turned out that he was right.

By this time I was sweaty, Rose was sweaty, the dogs, twins, and Abigail were stressed, and all I could do was be glad that I could handle this.  This was not my first rodeo.  It made me remember what was, in reality, the most miserable time of my life fondly.  Not unlike a seasoned soldier looks back at boot camp.  Yeah, it was terrible, but you survived it and just look at you now!  You can do this, and you know you can do this.  It makes all the difference in the world.  Or like how much you hated going to school until you had to get a real job, when all of a sudden you would give anything to go back to that place and do it over.

 .

I was equal to the task.  I am like a baby screaming ninja now.  I saw her screaming and raised her a bottle that was not quite hot but much warmer than I thought it should be.  And she folded.  After 35 minutes of giving it all she had, she learned the art of compromise.

The silence was deafening.  Everyone's shoulders went down about 2 inches, and that baby went to sleep like an angel.  I laid her down in the cradle that my own babies slept in and sighed a contented sigh.

Around midnight, she rolled over, or maybe just moved her hand.  In any case, she made a noise and I shot out of bed like the ninja I now am and got a bottle all ready.  Defrosted and too hot (for me) but just right (for her), I was ready.  The only one up in  my quiet house, I waited. I thought about reading but didn't want to wake my brain completely up. It's a fine line between getting up and doing what you have to do and being able to go right back to sleep.  One I apparently have still to master.

I waited so long that the bottle was no longer the right temperature.  I stood over her and observed her closely.  She was out like a light.  I waited some more.  I put the bottle in hot water to keep it warm.  The water cooled, and still she did not move.  Her parents came home and she slept on.  I felt, for some reason, like she had one-upped me, and if I went back to bed she would have her revenge, so I waited some more.  After an hour I started calculating how much sleep I was missing and finally I went back to bed, still believing that she would wake up as soon as I drifted off.  Then I remembered that I did this same exact thing with my first child.  If I would have just left him alone, I would have gotten a lot more sleep!

Well, that baby slept right through until 4 am and the only one who was really happy with that was her mother.  She said she never did that for her.  I laughed and said "She never has to do that with you, you're the mother!!"

I guess the lesson is that no matter how good you are, you are never really in control of anything.  Better to be ready, of course, but don't be surprised if what you are ready for doesn't ever happen.  Oh, and roll with the punches, because I can promise you they will keep coming.  But you will get better with practice, and there is no finish line, or ceremony, or prize that you can keep on a shelf and show your friends.

Mothers don't need that kind of recognition, not really.  Mothers know that no one judges them as harshly as they themselves do, and that no one will ever know the victories they win.  All you can do is the best you can, and that is enough.  More than enough, sometimes, even if you are the only one who ever know it.

You can trust Paula Deen

Around the first of the year, on a Sunday morning, my oldest baby asked me for waffles.  I said yes if he would plug the waffle iron in for me while I stirred up the batter.  He did, and I started stirring, and about 10 minutes later my kitchen was flooded, defiled is actually a better term, with the most horrible smell that I think I have probably ever smelled in my life, and I am not exaggerating.  I quickly determined that this smell was coming from the now hot waffle iron.  I cannot really describe the smell, but let me tell you what went through my mind as possible scenarios that could have produced this smell:

1)A mouse had somehow gotten in there, given birth, and then been killed while out searching for food, leaving poor baby mice to starve and then be slowly cooked in the waffle iron by an unwitting, unobservant, and unsuspecting innocent child.

This was my first thought.  I lacked the courage to open the lid yet, but for some reason I had the brilliant thought that I should try to clean it.  I know that was not a winning thought.  At least I know it now.  This is why hindsight is so important.  It's important to rehearse what you may think are "crazy" scenarios in your head, all the time--people---so that you will be better prepared in emergencies such as this.  Let's face it, we NEVER see these things coming!

My poor oldest baby was standing right beside me, possibly with the idea that he could help in some way, poor dear, when I, in my panic-induced frenzy, opened that waffle iron and plunged it into running water.  This assured that the horrible smell moved more quickly through my entire house, and it was January, and we couldn't open any windows.  We were now rocking the "steamy horrible smell".  So we opened the doors and started fans because there was no way on earth any human being should be asked to take that ......concoction into their lungs, let alone past their olfactory glands.  I mean it was a smell like rotten meat, or death.  It was extremely pervasive and we could not breathe without choking and gagging. 
When I opened it up, it was not poor starved abandoned baby mice.  Which led me to the second scenario:

2)  A piece of plastic casing from sausage that somehow got closed into the waffle iron by an unwitting, unobservant and unsuspecting innocent child.  Or adult, our clean up routine is above all things FAST, very FAST.  Plus it involves males helping.  I hope I don't have explain what that means, because it is a blog post all to itself.  At any rate, it wasn't just a rotten meat/death smell, it had the added bouquet of burning plastic mixed into it.

After throwing that waffle iron into the trash, opening the doors and running the fan, we were still having little relief from the horrible smell.  I went to the Mecca, aka Wal Mart, for some kind of solution.

This is why I will always remember the exact place I was when I discovered them. 

This is where I found Paula Deen candles. 

They are  bit more expensive (not bad), but I was willing to pay a little more for a product I could rely on, you know?  I had no idea that she even did candles, but I knew she was a good cook, and I was willing to put my money on Paula for help with this problem.  Also, I needed to trust and believe that somehow this problem would go away, and who is better to comfort you in this condition than a Southern lady who cooks?  My faith was well placed.  Not only do her candles smell like you have food cooking in your house, they have the cutest little recipe's printed on a convenient removable tag so that you can actually make whatever your candle smells like.  Is that a great idea or what? 

Do you have any idea how many family members will be thrilled to find out that what they are smelling is not just a good front, but an actual dish to be eaten?  I think you probably do, if you live with any family members.  How many times have I had a male walk into my house and hopefully ask "what smells so good?", only to have their hopes dashed when I tell them it's a candle.  Many, many times.

Well, those days are over.  Or at least they can be, if I follow through and make the dish.  Which, knowing me I probably will unless these recipe's involve a lot of ingredients I do not have on hand, and Paula is not really that kind of girl, so the odds are good.

I should also mention that I bought another waffle iron.  My old one was at least 20 years old.  I had no idea how advanced the world of waffle irons had gotten over the past couple of decades.  Let me just say that they are reasonably priced (compared to the price of say, gas, or milk, you get the picture) and work very well and very quickly. 

I guess the moral of this story is mainly to always check before you close the waffle iron, but if you haven't tried the Paula Deen candles you won't be disappointed.

Here's to preventing horrible smells whenever physically possible, and purging them when necessary.  And Paula Deen!  She has no idea who I am or that she is a hero in my book, but she is, she is.  She is a lady you can trust.