Unwelcome Surprises

When you are in the moment of the unwelcome surprise, you think you're not going to live through it. Then when a little or a lot of time passes and you start remembering some of them, most of them are quite funny. I asked Donald the other day if he could think of anything like that and at first he couldn't think of one. Then he started reminiscing and several came up between us. One of his analogies would be a turd in the punchbowl.

We were living in Houston when Derrick and Dori were both small children. Donald and I had gone to a ballet in downtown Houston and then to "the" restaurant across the street (it's still there.) We were dressed in sparkly gowns and suits and ties. We had ordered our drinks and were relaxing after the ballet (for me, getting over having to go to the ballet) and were looking at the menus, when from behind I heard a crashing sound and then wetness flooding my beautifully coiffed long blond hair, then down my back saturating my sparkly gown, all the way down to my panty hose and shoes. You can imagine what a strawberry daiquiri looks like on very natural, very blond hair. The only thing I could think about was making the waiter not feel so uncomfortable. Needless to say, our dinner was paid for which turned into a welcome surprise.

We were moving to Houston when Derrick was 5 and Dori was still in my belly. Our shipment of furniture and belongings hadn't arrived yet, so we had to stay at a hotel. Since we hadn't counted on that, I hadn't packed for this event. The hotel had a swimming pool, so to occupy Derrick, I let him go swimming - I don't remember why he had his bathing suit with him. I didn't. Derrick has always been pretty tall, but when he waded out farther then he was tall (still shallow water for me) and didn't know how to swim yet, my only choice was to wade in and save him. This was a most unwelcome surprise because that was all the clothes I had and I was saturated. It's one of those times when you want to both cuddle and punish your child at the same time.

Donald and I live in a very small and modest cottage with no halls and just rooms leading to other rooms. You would think we wouldn't be able to lose each other but we do quite often. There is a pass-through linked by a bathroom from one bedroom to another and each has its own door, so you do have privacy in the bathroom. Most of the time the doors are open and since the house is carpeted we move around pretty quietly. We are often surprising each other as we round the corner. The other day Donald was carrying his week's worth of pills in his hand when we both rounded the corner and he was so startled that he shook the container out in front of him towards me. Well, you can imagine how the rattling medicine man startled me. At the time, we were just getting over the surprise. But the other night when we were camping in Arkansas, we got to talking about that moment and both laughed so loud and hard for several minutes, re-enacting the scene, I'm sure we disrupted the campground. Neither one of us could breathe. And each time we died down, Donald would imitate his rattling the bottle again and we were once again with bellyaches from laughing. It's one of those "you have to be there moments" to appreciate the humor and I think we'll be recalling this unwelcome surprise a few times in the future.

My daughter, Dori, is not to be left out of one of my unwelcome surprises. It actually came in the guise of a nasty neighbor who was always tattling on the kids. We lived in a neighborhood that was still being developed and there were several houses under construction. Dori had a very mischievous friend, Robin, who was always coming up with new and better things to do to put their lives in jeopardy. Dori was about 9 years old when old Mrs. Windbag knocked on my door and asked if I knew (like I would just let Dori do things like this) my daughter and her friend were jumping off the second story of the uncompleted house to the ground. I didn't know, but by the time I got down to that house, the two curmudgeons had disappeared. I don't remember chastising Dori, but I think I probably explained she probably shouldn't do that anymore. And now 25 years later, I hear stories from Dori that make that leap off the second story sound like milquetoast. But it took her 25 years to come clean.

I have lots of other unwelcome surprises like these - they are the kind that you laugh at through all time.

Something Is Broken

My daughter, Dori, gave me this little kitten about 20 years ago. When it was new, it had 2 blue eyes (I thought they were painted on, but apparently not), a pink nose (also apparently not painted), it's ribbon has been tied in a perfect bow for 20 years, and it had 2 back paws. I felt like this was one of the items one of my two kids bought me that I definitely needed to keep in good shape and always display. It has moved many times, carefully packed, and then placed in many different themes, but always visual. He looks larger in the photo but is only about 2-1/2" tall. He's sitting on an antique stone grinding wheel so that gives anyone looking a sense of size.

Then our almost-perfect 2-1/2 year old grandson came to visit for a day. He's Dori's son so I guess it'll be okay. If it had been one of Derrick's kids, it might have been different, you think? His Ada was babysitting he and his 2-month-old little brother, so it would be one of those things Ada saw happen but couldn't move fast enough to save "the kitty." I didn't notice it until S was gone and I saw the "new kitty". Ada said it happened in milliseconds and it was not with malice. But, if you look close enough, you can see where he might have been driving the kitty around the grinding wheel. I'm just saying.


Could this precious little hooligan be the culprit?

What I Wish I Had Known Then

I was a pretty happy kid. My mom and dad were loving but strict. I lived in a household of fun, laughter, lots of outside play and we traveled. We weren't poor, but I know now how much my parents struggled to spread the dollars so we kids didn't know we didn't have very much.

I wish I had known that, even though you have to make good grades, you don't really have to stress out to make those straight As. I wish I had known that those kids that were so snobby because they had more money and would follow me from grade school to high school, absolutely had no effect on my adult life. It would have been so easy to go through school not giving a rip what people thought about me.

I wish I had known that, if all I had to do was make my grades (which I did) in the 5th grade and not worry about that horrible, grouchy, mean teacher I had, as soon as 5th grade was over I would only remember her name and 5th grade wouldn't even be a memory.

I wish I hadn't been so shy because I'm not now. I was never afraid, actually quite the opposite so my personality was already brewing. But what makes a girl so shy, especially when my mom and dad were always telling me how special I was?

I wish I hadn't worried so much about not being asked for dates in high school. I'll bless God for that because I might not have waited until I met Donald and then all the dynamics would have changed.

Try not to hate getting up on Sunday morning so much and having to get dressed to go to Sunday School and church. My mom was pretty insistent on that and I thank her for it. It was the basis for my morals and my impenetrable faith in God.

I wish I had taken college a little more seriously, because I would be a retired volleyball coach by now.

I wish I had known that what was in my future were a wonderful husband, 2 terrific kids, and 7 excellent grandchildren.

Now that I'm 64, I wish I had known that God was going to grant me mostly serenity, with just enough controversy to make it interesting but harmless. So, I'm going to look forward to the rest of my life and not worry about it because I know God is still the engineer and I am his ongoing drawing and design.

Apologies

This is very general because the post would be much too long if I apologized for every deed I have done that needed an apology. My first would be to God because He's given me so many chances to be a better person.

I apologize to my Grandmother Nanis (my Mom's Mom and last remaining grandparent) who passed away 41 years ago at age 64 for not seeing her more often. I so loved her - she didn't get cool until I was about 18 years old and then she had a transformation. She was a little Baptist lady that didn't like me wearing shorts (too bold for her Baptist taste.) And yet, when my now husband of 43 years broke up with me one summer, she drove me to the lake where he was partying with a bunch of friends and the "new girlfriend" and she helped me spy on them. She made exactly the right comments (not Baptist at all) and when we drove away from there, I felt slightly better. She was happy when Donald and I got married a few months later.

I apologize to my Dad Vernon (who passed away in January of 1999) for not telling him what a wonderful man he was until he was in a coma and I don't think could hear me anymore. But I said it plenty, over and over, at his bedside no matter whether he could hear me or not. Every year since then, ex-students of his have walked up to me and told me the things he did to change their lives forever, as their teacher and mentor. Why didn't I see this man with the same awe? I do now.

I apologize to my Mom Doris (who is alive and still kicking at 85.) The same thing is going to happen with her that did with my Dad. Why is it you don't know how great your parents are until you can't tell them anymore? I try to hug and kiss her as often as I can and hopefully I will have until her 90s to do this. She is an exceptional woman who is under appreciated by many of her family.

I apologize to my Son Derrick because we were so hard on him in his early years. It was before time outs so we spanked him. Half the time he probably didn't deserve it but people were watching so we felt the guilt of not disciplining because their outside opinions influenced us foolishly. He is a wonderful, successful man of 42 now and I have always said, in spite of me being his mother, he turned out great on his own.

I apologize to my Daughter Dori because I think I didn't see her clearly enough as a young child and a teen. She has always been so much fun that I forgot to look for signs of troubles she might have been experiencing. She is still really fun and I hope that is not still clouding my judgment. I also apologize for not being able to hold my tongue in giving way too much advice (which her brother doesn't get enough of from me) and just watch her enjoying life.

I apologize to my 4 brothers who are all now at least 55 years old. But when we were young kids, and me being the oldest, I'm certain I was way too bossy which is why I am who I am today. They gave me lots of practice.

I apologize to my Husband Donald. He is my greatest motivator, savior, confidante, and friend. And yet, I treat him with such disrespect sometimes. Of course, after I do that, I live with self-regret, beating myself up because he turns around and does something else nice that only puts him in good standing until the next time he does something wrong. He doesn't get it and I don't get it! Maybe I was just lucky enough to get a good man.

Dori's Third Son

We are presently being endowed with playing with and keeping her 3rd son (our grandson) for a couple of days. It has been a hoot!

However, he came with his older brother's Batman glove, minus the sound device. It hasn't been off his hand, even when he goes to bed at night.

Last night I lay down with him for a few minutes while he fell asleep. I could see "the glove" (it's not a hand anymore) stuck straight up to the ceiling. I could see it with the ambient light through the windows. Even after he was breathing deeply, "the glove" was still straight up, fingers spread apart (to keep it on since it is too large for him.) It would slowly fall toward me and then would spring straight up again with fingers spread apart as if it had a life of its own. Ada (his grandpa) slept with him and finally took "the glove" off because he thought it kept waking him up.

Today, it's about 11:30 am, it came to me that there was a new slightly sour smell in my house that I could not find. Then my precious little 2-year-old grandson came to me with "the glove" because it had fallen off and he wanted help putting it back on. There was the odor, only personified 100% because it had found air and now it was permeating the house. The inside of the glove is bad enough, but then I smelled of his hand. I told him to smell his glove and hand and he couldn't stand it. But, by gosh, it's back on his hand and will be when he gets back to his Mom's. She can deal with it. I only worry it might have grown to his hand by then.

My Older Baby and Her New Baby

Actually, she is a very young, fun, pretty 35 and she just had a little bitty baby (a preemie.)

Mostly, this post is about her best friends, and she has quite a few, but the handful of her better than best is who I'm going to talk about now. During Dori's traumatic march to have this baby beginning at about 6:00 am, they were loving, dutiful, worried, and attentive equal to and beyond me. When I got to the hospital (I'm 2 hours away by car), 2 of them were already there, 1 had already picked up her 2-year-old, and throughout that first day and the rest of her stay they were like her Moms and Dads. If any of you guys read this post, I want to tell you I am so glad you are part of my daughter's family.

It is almost over and we can almost breathe deeply, that is, until the little bitty comes home from the hospital. Dori is fit and ready to get back into the swing of being the mother of 4 and she now has 2 more kids than I do. So I guess that makes her more of an expert on the subject of children than me.

My Husband's Mother

Everytime we have a family function - a holiday, birthday, birth, whatever, she is either going to be late, change her plans at the last minute, cancel at the last minute or thrust herself into the mix with no warning.

For instance, when I choose to host a get together, I am, in fact, putting on a show, in which I am the performer and my guests are the audience. My guess is that whether she gets there or not and when, my mother-in-law is "stealing the show" - and she knows it.

When she is late or reschedules or barges in, the conversation is about her and that's what she is secretly hoping for.

We are all familiar with this type of person, who seeks attention by constantly creating a roller coaster of crises. These folks continually experience hypochondria, invent drama, and generate chaos in their relationships. The stress they cause is absolutely unnecessary, but it guarantees that the focus is always on them. The challenge comes when they insist that you join them on their crazy ride. So before drowning in my sorrows, I need to take back center stage by setting up boundaries for everyone attending my get togethers.

Since I can't change my mother-in-law, when something comes up in the future, I will let everyone involved know what time things are happening and stick to my agenda. After all, the majority of people are respecting my wishes.

Best of all, I will have drawn an internal boundary of my own. I'll have ended my habit of seeing his mom's thoughtlessness as a personal offense. When my mother-in-law does change her plans, I will make no mention of it because there is no point in rewarding rude behavior.