I found myself relaxing behind the lawn mower on Wednesday. Finding serenity with the sounds of the motor blasting out all the unwanted phone calls and other worries weighing on my mind. Everything has gotten on my nerves lately and I haven’t had any patience at all. I used to smoke a cigarette to take the edge off. Since I’ve quit the nasty habit, my life has been turned upside down with total chaos. I’ve found the solution of losing myself in home improvement tasks rather than killing myself with cancer sticks.

I find myself getting easily annoyed with my son. The numerous questions concerning who is better than so and so on a certain NFL team, why is such an such doing this or that, etc. asked by him seem to be driving me up the wall. Getting to the root of the problem is what I need to be doing. Rather than yelling at my son to stop asking me so many questions that I could care less about—I need to resolve some inner issues. Why do we take out our frustrations on the people that we care most for? Screaming, crying or pulling out my hair won’t stop me from being annoyed. I guess I’ll stick to the home improvement tasks. Eventually, my being annoyed will soon pass.

Managed to conquer some of my home improvement goals while I was on weekend duty with my job. I was bothered several times with having to climb down from my ladder to answer the phone. I became aggrevated with some of the driver’s calls that were total nonsense. Aside from feeling tension in my shoulders, leg cramps and irritation in the right wrist—I managed to get a cold or something of that nature. I lost my voice a couple of days ago. Needless to say, I’ve felt lousy this week.

It is difficult to find the proper thing to say. I’ve never lost a spouse to death…maybe, that is my reason for not marrying. It is impossible for me to relate to that sort of loss. After my grandmother died, I felt empty and relieved at the same time. The woman would nearly squeeze you into when she pulled you in for a hug. She always greeted and departed with a bear hug. The only person that can come close to hugging like her is my dad. Grandma had more biblical knowledge than anyone that I’ve encountered. She continuously recited scriptures and doodled them on paper as well. Although we had our differences, I loved her deeply. I’m grateful that she no longer has to suffer from cancer. The realization that she was gone and that we would no longer be able to share stories was painful; however, I was truly content with her passing. Don’t get me wrong, I still get choked up thinking about her. I miss her, but I do know that she is with God. What could be better than that? Absolutely, nothing.

My dad had difficulties coping with my grandmother’s death as well. After dreaming of his mother wearing a beautiful pink dress being led away by three angels, he found peace with his loss. He said that it may sound crazy, but he knew that she was in heaven because his dream was so real. I wish that he could have a dream like that with Kat.

It takes time to heal. It feels awkward talking to him about his feelings. I suggested that he attend some grief counseling sessions. If someone could relate his sort of loss, he may find some comfort. I want to be a supportive daughter and provide him the encouragement that he needs. In all my years of living, I have never seen my dad this lonely or sad. It breaks my heart. So today, I want to dedicate this blog piece to my dad—in hopes that he will soon find peace with his loss.

As I cleaned out the linen closet, I found towels and wash cloths that were issued while serving the US Navy. If those white towels and cloths hadn’t been used since leaving the military…then, why have them taking up space? Found a maternity bra that will definitely no longer be put to use. It was crazy to find all the horded junk packed away. My dresser drawers and closets are so clean and tidy—it’s almost scary. ha

My house feels like it has lost a few hundred pounds. It will be nice to get my garage cleaned and organized. My next project will be cleaning out the storage shed. Once I have everything organized, I’m going to keep it that way (hopefully). It drives me nuts trying to find something that has been stored away or misplaced. There’s a box of letters that were written to me while I was in the military. I’ve thought long and hard about getting rid of them. No clue as to why I’ve kept them, but they will soon find the dumpster as their home. What purpose do they serve other than taking up much need space on my shelf in the garage? No one will care about any of those letters when I’m dead and gone. I keep trying to convince myself…GET RID OF UNWANTED OR UNUSED CRAP!!!! I may throw a celebration at my house when all is clean.

My grandmother, Nettie, died when my mother was a young child. To this day, she still cries at the mere mentioning of my gradmother. Mom slept with her until the day she was killed by a drunk driver. Later in life, my mom explained the reasoning behind not allowing me to sleep with her when I was scared. She said,”It was the hardest thing for me to get over losing my mom and not having her to sleep with.” She vowed that she would never put one of her kids through that sort of loss and abandonment. I thought that she was the most calloused woman when I was younger. I constantly begged her to go to bed with me until I fell asleep (due to being scared of the peeping tom, Old Lady Arnold). She never once gave into my pleas. After becoming a mother myself, I vowed to be the total opposite. I allowed my son to sleep with me. Was it the wisest move on my part? I’d have to honestly answer that it was not the best decision that I made.

She has always been the provider and caretaker of our family. Being raised on a small farm in Delaney, she was always working in the field or on the farm with the animals. At an early age, she knew what “hard work” meant and she instilled that into her children. She reminded us that idle hands were the devils’ workshop. One summer she had my sister and I digging up rocks and disposing of them. My sister and I tossed the rocks out in the street. My mother drove in from work that evening and about had a stroke. She screamed at us,”Everyone is going to think that the Clampets moved into town! Do you think that these rocks are going to mysteriously dissolve on their own?” We were order to go to the street and remove the rocks immediately. The following summer, she supplied us with spoon handles to remove dandelions from our yard. I know that it sounds like total nonsense and while not understanding the logic behind the ridiculous chores at a younger age. I’ve grown to appreciate her “goofy chores.” Nothing in life is free, you must work for it. Mom made sure that we understood her work philosophy.
She can still out work her kids and grandchildren. She is on the constant move. No one can keep up with her. The woman’s house is immaculate….you could eat off of her floor and never think twice about it. The neighbor’s have often commented,”We have never seen anyone wash the floor of the garage and driveway like she does. If we sweep it, we have accomplished something.” As my son often refers to her as being “the neat freak.”

Aside from being a dedicated aunt, mother, sister—she has been the most supportive grandmother. I can’t remember my mother leaving us to go anywhere except for work. We stayed at the babysitter’s until my sister was old enough to watch after me. She always held a steady job and often worked at two jobs. We didn’t take glamorous vacations or spend wildly on lavious garments. As mom would tell us,”We’re not trying to keep up with Jones’s.” We lived within our means and nothing beyond. She was much more lax after the grandchildren come along. She is always spending above and beyond for the grandchildren. If they want a certain shoe, brand of pants or a shirt that has to have a certain feel….she’ll break her neck to find exactly what they want. I call it “cobbing” and she calls it being a grandma. When the oldest grand son started walkiing, I’ll never forget watching our stepfather placing him on the kitchen table. Levi loved to hear his new shoes make a “slapping noise” on the wood surface. He clapped joyfully at his noisy clomping as I sat in total disbelief. You would have never convinced me that my mother would allow something of that nature on top of her kitchen table, if I had not witnessed it firsthand. When we were small, my sister and I were never allowed to jump on the beds. We thought it was a treat to go to our cousins’ house and jump crazy like monkies. I have photos that my mother has taken of the grandkids jumping on the bed. I guess as she became older, she grew softer as well. I’ve often teased her that she thought more of her grandkids and that she thought of her actual kids. She would explain that they were separate kind of loves. She said, “You can spoil the grandkids and send them home. I had to live with you kids and it was different.” I’m thankful that she was not as strict with them as she was with us. The more you tightened the reigns with me, the more I wanted to rebel. I believe that my child will have the same “lovely” characteristic. Mom always says,”You are going to pay for your raising with that child.” Believe you me, I already know. I couldn’t have a child anymore like me than if they had cloned him from me. There is no denying who he belongs to. My mother has always been proud that she has a grandson that favors her side of the family. All of the grandsons are fair complected and light headed. Treyton sticks out like a diamond in a goats’ butt–he has the dark hair and the facial features of the Shackelfords.

Last but not least, my mother has always been a born fighter. When she was younger, my mother ate lye. It nearly ate her tongue from her mouth; however, she didn’t have a speech impedement. You would have never known her defective tongue unless you saw her try to stick it out. I’ll never forget witnessing her pounce the poop out of her husband’s ex-wife. Dorothy had pulled out of Bomart’s and followed us to Durham. She passed us and slammed on her breaks in front of us. Back in those days, there was no seatbelt law and I went flying into the truck’s dashboard. I’ve witnessed my mother being angry on several occasions; however, lunatical, raging, stomping mad is how I’d describe her on this particular day. Mom and Dorothy duked it out with hair pulling, scratching, punching and kicking. No doubt about it, mom was the clear winner of that scuffle. She definitely laid down a can of whoop ass on her. I was impressed with her strength for such a small woman. I couldn’t tell you how many people have told me that they wouldn’t want to get my mother on their bad side. I don’t blame them…it’s not a pretty sight. She has a mighty bark and bite. The woman is tough as a boot and quite a little scrapper.

My mom is the most loving, supportive, dedicated and hard-working woman that I’ve ever known. We may not always see things eye to eye, but I value her opinion above anyone’s. I may not always please her with my actions, but she has always been the most supportive regardless of what I’ve done. I may not enjoy having to listen to a lecture from her, but if she was not around—-I’d miss her like no other. We talk to each other at least twice a day if not more. As she says,”You could count on your one hand and not fill it up with the true friends you have in life.” She is absolutely correct. I’m thankful that I can call her my friend as well as my mother.

Some of the parents that have kids who previously played for other teams are disappointed in the losing streak. In comarison, to being on a winning team with coaches that take the kid’s football program too seriously versus a losing team with compassionate coaches—I’d chose the losing team. Kids grow up too quick and they need to have fun with the game. They will have plenty of opportunity being screamed at and degraded once they approach the teen and college years.

Our team has struggled with kids not showing up for practices or not wanting to play on a losing team–so they decide to quit. As parents, what sort of message are we sending to our children? The more you practice…the more you learn. We should encourage them to be part of the “team.” Life is not all about winning. Thank goodness, my son has experienced both winning and losing. Last season, he cried his eyes out about losing all of his games. After witnessing poor sportsmanship from his winning team this summer, he has changed his attitude. Treyton let me know that it didn’t bother him to lose because he was able to play both quarters and he was giving it his all. He said that all of his team mates got along and encouraged each other.
As the season comes to a close on Saturday, it will be somewhat disappointing. Watching these kids give 100% of themselves in practices and see their remarkable improvement from the first of the season, I’ve come to enjoy. I’ll miss visiting with the other parents as well. Until next season……