Tales of the Ordinary Days

I am a homebody.  There is no doubt about it.  Regardless of where my career and travels take me, coupled with my guilty indulgence of never wanting to miss a party; the reality is that my favorite spot in the whole wide world is home.  I love the smell of clean clothes fresh out of the dryer and the feeling of accomplishment with perfectly organized stacks of folded clothes.  I relish my rolling gardens full of vibrant greens, new blossoms, and spring color surprises.  On the worst of days and the most trying of times, my world comes back  together in complete unison when I am preparing a meal in my kitchen with the familiar background noises that go hand in hand with my three busy sons.  I love a clean garage, an organized pantry, and a tidy frig.  A plan in my mind for the next meal and an open night to "putz" about the house from room to room finding treasures in forgotten drawers and looking through pictures from ...

The beautiful poem below was written by Patty Johnson.  She shared it with me and I asked her permission to post on my blog to share with all of you.  Patty wrote this shortly after her youngest son, Jaime, left for college and left their home an empty nest.  Her words touch the hearts of all mothers.  I felt it was so fitting to post this just prior to Mother's Day weekend as I am sure many can relate to Patty's feelings of her ordinary days with her child now turned into cherished memories of days past.

  Grant enjoying the zoo (a few years prior to our Ferris Bueller day off)  I just experienced a new first in parenting.  After years of getting phone calls informing me of sick children...babysitters worrying about fevers, daycare noticing a strong cough, pink eye alert from the grade school nurse, high school admin calling with a sick teenager in the office; instead the call was directly from my college son.  He had gone to the UNL medical office after getting considerably sick and was diagnosed with a severe case of mono.  So instead of trekking to the daycare or grade school, I drove to Lincoln to bring my oldest home for some needed rest and recuperation. Reflecting on my many trips to retrieve sick kids spanning my nineteen years of parenthood, a memory of a particular sick call spurred a smile as I raced back home from Lincoln with my very sick and sleeping eldest in tow.  The “sick” child of past memory was Grant and the time fr...

An ordinary day for me these days includes airport security, consolidation of three bags to two, A-List boarding passes, and free drink coupons with complimentary peanuts.   Ding, ding, ding…you guessed it.   I spend a lot of time at the airport.   And I am proud to say that I have become a seasoned traveler.   George Clooney’s character in “Up in the Air” has nothing on me.   I know the tricks on how to whiz through TSA checks.   K nowing which security lines to avoid (kids and elderly…avoid at all cost...sorry) has been key to my systemic approach, as well as removing my shoes and computer in the perfect sequence to expedite my path out of the security area.   No doubt those following me through the bowels of TSA admire my efficiencies. Today I drove to the airport at noon to catch a 1:15 flight to Denver.   By  my rough estimation, I have flown this particular flight no less tha...

 The boys in their matching P.J.s made by Grandma Mary ~ Summer of 2003 In the Midwest, we all know that our ordinary summer days can quickly turn into tornado scares with greenish colored skies, blowing winds, and screaming sirens.  With this last weekend full of tornado warnings throughout most of the Midwest, memories of seeking shelter filled my mind.  When I was growing up, our shelter was a cellar with access only from an outside door.  For me, storm sirens bring back flashbacks of my dad carrying me through ripping winds as I held on for dear life as he pulled open the cellar door and we were greeted with darkness and the smell of moist dirt.  The sounds of whipping branches filled our ears while Mom attempted to mute out the frightening noises by turning up the volume on our small portable radio; our only outlet of communication from the outside world.  And we sat in the dark staring at jars...

 We stopped in the middle of our run through Boys Town to smell the gorgeous lilacs.  I picked a small bunch for my hair.  One of my running friends took this picture of me showing off my hair accessory at Prairie Life (check out the guy stretching in the background :))  It is a gorgeous Palm Sunday morning and I am laying in bed listening to the birds chirp and enjoying the cool breeze through my open windows; all while sipping a delightful cup of coffee.  The dryer is humming, the animals are lazily laying on the steps, and Grant is playing downstairs...the morning couldn't be more perfect and peaceful.  Five years ago I would have been setting my alarm for 6:00 a.m. and fitting in every imaginable task on my never ending to-do list before it was time to get ready for noon mass.  And back in those days, I would have probably pushed it a bit too far causing stress in making it to church on time.  I am quite certain many people ...

Ben ~ 12 years old Ben just left for Day Two of his first job.  A month shy of his sixteenth birthday,  Ben has been quite excited about this first time feat.  He landed this job at a newly opened breakfast restaurant after much persistence in hopes of being a gainfully employed bus boy.  Instead he was hired as a host.  I do have to say that when he called in exuberance to tell me he got the job, I as a bit surprised that his initial role would be the host position.  The mother in me had a few pangs of angst thinking it would be a bit better for my free-spirit middle child to learn the ropes cleaning tables rather than throwing him onto the masses on Day One.  But as with many stages in parenthood, this one was out of my hands.  This one was up to Ben. Yesterday morning began with a scurry of me trying to locate a birth certificate and Social Security card requested by Ben's new employer.  As I unsuccessf...