Minivan Moments

Perimenopause: What to expect that you're NOT expecting. Chapter 1: The Hot (Fire) Flash (Surge) The fan must be on. In every room. And you are now Mr. Rogers. You have a sweater for every outfit. However, you live in tanks and short-sleeved shirts underneath because nakedness is frowned upon in public places and you must disrobe in haste, frequently. The socially-encouraged bondage device, a.k.a. the bra, is more despised than ever. Fuzzy socks are your friend, because your circulation is poor and your skin is dry. You will end up with a pair in every room because you inevitably needed them off for extended periods and wandered away from them, only to need them again in another room. Winter weather is both bone-chillingly cold and a delight to overheated skin. Sometimes simultaneously. Summer is intolerable. Do not get me started on having a fever while experiencing a hot flash. 😳 And while we're mentioning it.... "Hot Flash" is not an adequate phrase for the rush o...

I'm a maple leaf. Maple leaves change colors in the fall, much like many other leaves, but have you ever wondered why they turn such bright reds? In our study about living things this year, we discovered something scientists didn't know when I was learning about the changing leaves way back in The Dark Ages : maple leaves are stubborn. You see, maple leaves start getting all the same environmental cues that cooler weather is coming that the other tree leaves get, but a maple leaf holds on with 'both fists,' if you will, and continues to try to do its job.  Despite the shorter days, regardless of the tree pulling resources away, and heedless of the cooler temperatures, the maple leaf keeps trying to do its job: photosynthesis. The maple leaf essentially says, "WAIT! NO, just one more minute... just one more day... hold on... I can..." While the leaf is striving to produce food for the tree, the tree has stopped receiving, having pulled the water and chlorophyll...

Most of us with MALS ( Median Arcuate Ligament Syndrome , also known as Celiac Artery Compression Syndrome) got so sick that when we were finally diagnosed, we were seriously grateful to not feel crazy anymore. After years of unexplained malnourishment, pain, and fatigue, the medical community actually presented us with a fix, albeit a serious one: open abdominal surgery. Surgery for MALS is a big deal. It is similar in procedure to an Abdominal Aortic Aneurism (AAA) repair - and in fact, some folks with MALS end up with aneurisms that need repairing - but with the added trauma of clipping the median arcuate ligament back to the spine (which involves lifting and spreading the ribcage - ouch!), and snipping a bunch of damaged nerves that are part of the largest nerve bundle in the autonomic nervous system and innervate most of the digestive tract (the celiac ganglion). Once all that happens, and surgical recovery gets less hellish (and it is ROUGH), it's on to phase 2: tea...

We're taught when we're young that the rings in a tree's stump can be used to determine the age of the tree. Additionally, the size of the rings can tell us about the climate during that period of growth, such as wide bands indicating a warm, wet season of growth or a narrow band marking a drought. Further, the shade of the ring can tell us the period of the year the growth took place; for example, a lighter ring indicates the spring/early summer growth period and a darker ring, a late summer/fall growth period. Those rings tell quite a story about what that tree has become, what it has been through, and what the conditions were during the tree's growth. Fascinatingly, there are even scars left behind if the tree survived a fire! The funny thing is, though, that you can't really tell any of that about a tree until it's been cut. ( Okay, technically, you can use a special instrument called an "increment borer" to remove a segment of a live tree ...

Did you know that grandmothers are born? The very first grandbaby creates the grandmother. It's the natural order of things. A grandbaby needs a grandmother to spoil, adore, and dote on her/him. It's in the rules. I became a grandmother 2 weeks ago. We knew for some time that my grandbaby might not make it to full term, that she had a lot to overcome in order to live outside the womb, but we loved her so much and could not imagine not having her here with us! Every day, we hoped, we prayed, we anticipated a joyous miracle. Every week, we looked for and longed to see changes that would indicate that she was getting better. That life outside the womb would become a reality, and we would all get to hold her, snuggle her, and make a lifetime of memories with her. However, that was not to be, and my first grandchild was delivered sleeping into this world. Our first meeting was bittersweet as we held her, aware that she had already flown to Heaven. Here in body, but absent in...

Recently, The Littlest Drama Princess brought up a touchy topic. Now that she is almost a teenager, we have a lot of our deep conversations while riding together in the car, and I find it is easier to really connect during these moments of close quarters/low distraction. She must feel the same way, because she frequently brings up things that she's been pondering, and she protects that time in the car with ferocious determination (just ask her big sister!). 😉 On this particular day, she mentioned how she wished that being gay "didn't have to be such a thing." I asked some probing questions to get to the bottom of why she was saying that, and I discovered some interesting things that are likely quite typical of kids her age in today's cultural climate. "What's the big deal?" is essentially what she is asking. First, she doesn't see why homosexuals and celebrities and businesses make such a big deal about "gay pride." And she also...

366 days ago, I felt as if the best years were behind me. I accepted that as my reality and went through the motions of life, doing the next thing, and trying to keep up with the work God gave me. I didn't really believe that I would ever be well again. It is still hard to say that out loud, but it was a quiet reality that I had come to terms with and didn't really talk about. Nobody really wants to talk about the hard stuff, ya know? Rainbows and unicorns, thank you very much! But 366 days ago, my reality was that I was grateful for the saving grace of Jesus Christ so that someday, I would be without pain. I lived for that. It got me through the hard days and kept me grounded. My hope was not of this world, but firmly rooted in the knowledge that this very broken body would not follow me into eternity. Then... 365 days ago, I was given a glimmer of a new hope. It was wrapped in a fair amount of terror, just to be honest, but it was hope nonetheless! And just a glim...

Where we live, there are no mandated driving classes or schools for teens to learn how to drive. We parents have to commit to teaching them - and sign an affidavit stating that we have given our teens a certain number of daylight and nighttime driving experience. There is a minimum six months of driver training period for this instruction, and teens then take a behind-the-wheel driving test with a trained examiner. ( This person is very brave. ) Growing up in Northern Virginia, we had classroom instruction on the Do 's and Don't 's of driving during our sophomore year of high school, complete with rule book and videos. Then we took a behind-the-wheel course with licensed instructors. After we passed both, we were permitted to take the driver's test, which we also still needed to pass in order to be granted a driver's license. Things are sure different here in Tennessee, and it explains a lot of the driving issues and traffic incidents we see regularly around her...

I'm going to be a grandma! I love babies, and toddlers, and children, and even teenagers most of the time. 😆 I've spent my whole life surrounded by children! My nickname is the Baby Whisperer! I mean, this is going to be awesome! What an exciting time for us, filled with hopes and dreams and baby things! Tiny shoes for tiny feet.  Tiny mittens for tiny hands.  Tiny diapers for tiny bottoms. Tiny clothes for tiny humans. Tiny everything ! I started thinking right away of how to rearrange my home to MAKE WAY FOR GRANDKIDS! What contraptions would I buy so that everything doesn't have to be lugged over when they visit? I began checking all the local resale sites for the big ticket items I knew we would need. I even started buying $10 Target giftcards here and there so that I would have money saved up to spoil the baby when it arrives.  👶👶👶👶👶👶👶 Then we discovered something was wrong with baby. That was a hard day. Watching my daughter dea...

Ignorance is bliss. It's a common saying, and it is often true. For me, however, I prefer to know. I don't like surprises. I prefer to know the possiblities and plan accordingly. I'm neither an optimist nor a pessimist. I just kind of hang out in the neutral zone, gathering information, running possible scenarios, playing with potentials until I feel prepared for as many possibilities as I can imagine. Some people don't get it, and I've been told to just relax, not to worry, stop stressing, etc. As a Christian, I have even been told by well-meaning fellow-believers that if I'm worrying, I'm not trusting God. As I have gotten older, though, I have come to realize something: I'm not so much stressing about things as I am accommodating what I have learned is slow processing speed . I do not like to be caught off-guard because it takes me a little more time to make sense of things than a lot of people. I have learned, therefore, to think things throug...

Childhood. Max: eighteen years. There is an expiration on childhood. A deadline . It's so short, but can feel so long while you are parenting the tough seasons . It's so easy to overlook an opportunity to read the book a third time, stack the blocks again, or appreciate the colorful painting they made.  It's so easy to just do the next thing. Make breakfast, do the laundry, pack the lunches, pay the bills, file the papers, shop for groceries, sign the schoolwork, prepare a nutritious dinner, do the dishes, put the laundry away, clean the house, tuck them in, go to bed, then wake up and do it all again. It's so easy to plan the next thing, while working on the thing in front of you, and forget that their days are passing you by. They are getting a little older. They are getting a little bigger . They are paying attention to you. You are their first hero. The first person who hangs the moon in their eyes. Believe it or not, if you take this responsibility se...

Within the medical field, things are often dealt with from a statistical point of view. Doctors rely on what is "the norm" a lot. And let's face it, the "norm" is most of what doctors probably see, so you can't really fault them for assuming your case will also be "normal." And then there's me. I was one of those babies allergic to milk who needed a prescription formula. In the '70s. I was born tongue-tied, but nobody noticed because I spoke fine... once I started talking. So, I'm still tongue-tied. I was one of those kids who got molested by a family member. I have bunions. On both feet. Since childhood. I was a "late bloomer." In all the ways. I was diagnosed with polyps in my sinus cavities at age 18 due to recurrent, severe headaches. I still have them because the small chance they could grow back after being removed is a reality I cannot ignore. I've always known I was an outlier.... 😏 As if that's not...

When my son was a preschooler, he hated to have his hair cut. He said it physically hurt him. So we let it go for awhile before we finally took him to a barber. He was a big boy for his age, and the barber was decidedly harsher than he should have been when my son flinched and squirmed. I had to reiterate to the barber more than once that my son was still only 3, even though he looked to be over 4 years of age. The barber was frustrated by my son's sensory issues, didn't approve of my parenting, and we didn't go back. When my youngest child was an infant, she didn't sleep well. I co-slept with her until she had her tonsils and adenoids removed at 2 years of age for obstructive sleep apnea, which I wouldn't have caught if I hadn't co-slept. All the while, my fellow mothers criticized me, telling me all the ways I was failing as a mother. When that same child was toddler, I was the mother ignoring a screecher in her buggy at Target, because waiting for her to ...

As busy adults, we can easily resort to communicating via text message. Need to see if someone has a book your child needs to read for school? Text 'em! Want to know if your friend can get together Friday for coffee? Text 'em! Checking in on a friend with the flu? Text 'em! It is great for quick thoughts, simple questions, or making plans to get together. What texting is NOT great for is authentic communication. Too much is lost in print, too much room for things to be misconstrued, and too much temptation to be more harsh than you might be in person. Even the experts on proper communication agree that any serious conversation needs to happen in person. I am not making this up, this is not just my opinion, but I have definitely experienced this and found it to be true. However, it seems our Microwave Society, hooked on the instant gratification of texting and social media messaging for communication, has lost interest in personal communication, in face-to-face relations...

Life as a suburban mother is tricky. Because, Mommy Wars. You don't breastfeed? Inconceivable! Your baby needs your milk, you selfish hag! You exclusively breastfeed? The horror! How dare you flash your sex objects here, you shameless hussy! You homeschool? [eye roll] Overprotective much? Your kids go to public school? {gasp} Aren't you afraid of all the bullying, gangs, and drugs? Your children don't play sports? They're going to be fat and lazy! Your children play a sport EVERY SEASON?! You are setting them up to need constant busyness in their lives! Don't you know children need to experience boredom?!? Why do you let your kids play video games? They're going to grow up to be murderers! You don't buy exclusively organic food? All those chemicals are going to give your children diseases! Why do you even buy organic? Don't you know it's all a farce to make idiots like you spend more money? I mean... really. Are we trying to make ou...

Have you ever seen a shrub that was shaped so many times that it no longer looked attractive? Or a hack-job on a tree or bush that was clearly outside the realm of what would be the natural growth pattern of that particular plant? We used to live in a little house that was over 20 years old when we moved in, and the original owners had planted holly bushes in the front of the house between the walkway to the front steps and the house. At one point, it probably looked great nestled into that spot, just under the living room windows. Sadly, by the time we moved into that house, the shrubs had been cut down to fit into that space so many times that the bushes had bare spots where greenery didn't grow anymore and the stalks of the shrubs were thick, rough... and highly visible . From the street, it looked like dead patches. But we, as the tenants, knew better. We lamented those bare spots every time the holly bushes got a trim - which we needed to keep up with per the landlord and th...

I struggle with fear. And I mean struggle . Fear knows how to get into my head, despite my efforts to ignore it. I try to tune it out, and it works... for a time. I attempt to rationalize my way out of it, and that, too, has some success. And as a Christian, I endeavor to turn my fear over to the Lord and let Him take care of things His way. But fear returns. And we grapple. Sometimes, fear gets the upper hand. Other times, I conquer it. But in every instance, fear reminds me that it is always capable of - at the very least - interfering with my day and wrecking my peace. So I struggle with fear. Because giving into it is not an option. It might be like a muscle: the more I exercise my strength over fear, the stronger I get, and the easier it will be to vanquish. Maybe it's like bitterness: the more I practice turning away from the whispers of fear, the quieter the voice becomes. Or perhaps fear is like a broken relationship: it has come into my life and left its mark,...