Family life, Paleo-ish eating and Coping with Chronic Illness

Mother’s Day weekend. That’s a good time.  I played the Mother’s Day card pretty hard this weekend.  I’m just sorry it’s over.  I like the attention.  I do.  I like the cards and the candy and the extra attentive family members.  I’m not uncomfortable with with the spotlight.

When I get older, I might be one of those mothers who turns family events into an opportunity to have “heart problems”.   Just about the time I feel like the youngins are not paying attention to me, I’ll start to feel light headed and clutch my heart.  The kids will yell, “Grandma’s sick.  Everyone, come help!”

Then, I’ll make a show of deflecting their concern.  “No kids,  I’m fine.  You keep having your fun (ignoring me). Don’t worry about this old lady.” Then, I’ll grab my heart again and head for the floor.

That’s how you handle that.  Ungrateful whippersnappers, forgetting Grandma likes the spotlight.

I received some delightful homemade cards for Mother’s Day; that’s what my family knows I like.  I love a few sincere and authentic  comments from my family, summarizing the role I’m playing in their lives.  You know, like a report card.  Except, I’d better be on the honor roll, or you can keep that report card to yourself.

I had a friend who posted something pretty funny on Facebook on Mother’s Day.  He said something like, “To all the good Moms out there, Happy Mother’s Day.  The rest of you can suck it.  That is all.”

Was that really bad?  It made me laugh.

Seems like he could have given credit to bad kids too.  There are plenty of those running around making our lives miserable.  Some of those kinds of kids don’t even have a bad mamma to blame for all their badness either. Those bad kids found badness all on their own.  I guess they can suck it too.

I don’t know where I am right now, or how to get out of here.

Let’s talk about goodness now.  Let’s talk about my friend, Lisa. If I could have three wishes, at least one of them would be for everyone in this world to have a friend like Lisa.  She’s so cool.

It’s a little weird that Lisa and I are such good friends. We’re different.  As you know, there’s just nothing secret about me.  What do you need to know? I’m happy to share.  My friend Lisa is reserved. Dignified.  In fact, that’s all I”m going to say about her, because I feel like she actually won’t even love that I’m talking about her right now.  Even if what I’m talking about is good.

But, guess what?  Lisa and I are such good friends, that I can say I don’t care if she doesn’t like this shout out. She’s getting it anyway, and I’m super confident our friendship will survive it.

The story is this. One day I asked Lisa what she thought I should do with the landscaping in my front yard.  Lisa’s landscaping is beautiful around her home.  She has a knack for it; landscaping is one of her favorite pastimes.  The thing with Lisa is, if she knows you have a need, she’s not very good at ignoring it.  And to be very, very gut-busting honest, I’ll tell you that I kind of knew that before I had this little landscaping conversation with Lisa.  I’m not that good of a person, really.  But, my mamma was.

Lisa is a lot like my mother-in-law.  You can NOT, NOT, NOT tell these two women that you adore black cherry ice cream, and then expect them NOT to buy you a gallon of black cherry ice cream.  That is how women like this roll. They aim to deliver.

I’ve learned this over the years, and I usually am more polite about NOT expressing my wishes.  I don’t want these ladies to feel obligated.  But I DID throw this landscaping dilemma out to Lisa. I knew better.  Knowing better didn’t stop me.

While I was at work one day, Lisa came over and previewed the pathetic landscaping already in place.  She jotted notes, and made some measurements.  I didn’t even know she did that.

Then, she called me and asked me if I had some time over the weekend.  Yes, indeed, I did.  We spent an afternoon planting what I can only assume will be an outstanding display around our house.  Lisa brought her own tools, plants from her house and she even brought her own water bottle.  She didn’t want to be a bother.

Everyone should have a friend like Lisa.  Have I mentioned that?  I love her.

The other piece of goodness I want to share with you is my nephew, Caleb.  Caleb is my sister, Heidi’s only son.  He is like a brother to Eddie and Zeke. These guys love each other to pieces, and have participated in all sorts of crazy together.  Caleb has spent a lot of time at our house, and he’s another person we’re all crazy about.

Caleb and Zeke are 15-years-old right now.  I’ve never been a 15-year-old boy, but I’ve been doing a little detective work; from the evidence I’ve seen, being a 15-year-old boy is quite pleasant.  And, by pleasant, I mean pleasant in  the way having your teeth drilled withOUT Novocaine might be pleasant.  Or, in the way taking a stroll through 4 feet of snow, in 20 below zero temperatures, barefoot might be pleasant.  You know?  THAT kind of pleasant.

Oh, poor, poor 15-year-old boys.  They’re so sweet in their “Am I a boy, or a man?” phase of life. A mom is ill equipped to answer these questions. That doesn’t help.  Moms just keep praying and praying and loving and loving and buying food and more food.  That’s all we can do, right?

Caleb has this habit of humming and singing.  He does this ALL the time.  Caleb isn’t even aware that he’s humming most of the time.  Heidi was wondering if she should tell Caleb to stop. What if people make fun of him? Something in Heidi told her telling Caleb to stop humming would be a bad idea.  I think it was something in her called good mothering instincts.

Caleb LITERALLY has a song in his heart…like, all the time. Caleb is a great athlete, and, then, he’s also a musician.

I feel like music is to Caleb what wrestling is to Eddie.  More than a hobby or an interest.  I know.  You’re thinking, here she goes with all the dramatics, again.  For real. I’m just telling you what I see.

Sometimes people are born loving things.  These things are etched into the souls of these kind of people, giving them a never ending craving for more of what they love.  I happen to think that this is one of those inexplicable God things. These interests are gifts that could only come from Him.  I feel pretty solid on that, but I know we all got are own ideas.

Thanks, God!

I’m saying all that, because I wanted to share about a minute and half of preciousness with you.  Caleb made his Mom a sweet Mother’s Day gift.  He sang a song for her.  This is Caleb singing melody, harmony, and, oh, that’s him on the guitar too.  Do you have about 100 seconds to hear it?   Aw, you’re such a softy. Thanks for being my friend.

Here’s Caleb:

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Comments on: "Bad Moms, Bad Kids and Caleb" (2)

  1. I love this song!
    He’s great.
    I’ve tried getting my kids to sing this with me like … As a round… They don’t get it… Duh, if I can do it, a three and six year old should be able to… Someday…

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