Tales of the Ordinary Days

Even Cookie is helping Last night was a late night fire drill at my house. A Vote-for-Grant, poster-making, last-minute project surprised me at bedtime. As I was on a video call with Garrett at 11:00 p.m., I erroneously assumed Grant was asleep in bed. His bedtime is 10:30. My assumption was incorrect. Mid-sentence, Grant blasted into my room in a complete panic. It was as though the house was on fire. “Mom, I need to make two posters for the Student Council election tomorrow!” After taking all the proper mother steps of quizzing him on why he hadn’t thought of this before and vowing that he was on his own, I conceded to help him out. My rationale was that the child needed to go to bed. In reality, it sounded like fun. To my surprise, Grant actually had a vision and a plan. I was simply his support staff. I offered suggestions on the poster board choice and Sharpie color. Past that, Grant communicated the message and design. As he scoured the art room for s...

Yes, that’s me. I’m Ben Lane’s mom. As of late, I have frequently been asked this question. From the kids working Angel Flight to the parents watching him explode on the football field. “Are you Ben Lane’s mom?” I told Ben that I feel like a rock star. And then I told him that he needs to have another good game this coming Friday as I’m not ready for this status to disappear. Although I am actually trying to motivate him with some humor, it really will be difficult to come off of my celebrity parent status so quickly. Saturday we visited Wayne State College as Ben is being recruited for their football team. Unsure what this all meant and knowing there were two other recruiting visits in the horizon, I took this one. Scott will take him on the next two. It was fun and insightful. The campus surprised me with its charm and size. The coach, a proven leader, and those helping with the tours and campus insight; impressive. Although still a novice with this sort of college tr...

Ben displaying what is left of our brick mailbox Our mailbox bit the dust tonight. And that was no small feat. It was tall and made of brick. Ben's friend, Addy, was the unfortunate offender. Her parents will be happy to know that the truck they bought her is a safe haven for their young driver. Addy and her pick-up truck departed my driveway unscathed. My mailbox wasn't as lucky. It was garbage day, so I was hoping for the best (crushed garage cans and recycle bins) as I sat on my bed and heard the bedlam through my opened windows. Not so lucky. My brick fortress of a mailbox was leveled like a house of cards. Addy cried as I heard Ben tell her, "My mom doesn't care. She's really nice." With reassurance, Addy went on her way and the boys did the heavy lifting; one brick at a time. "Mom, are you mad?" Ben asked after his tearful female friend departed. I really wasn't. I was grateful the victim was a bunch of bricks and not my step-do...