Giving Thanks

The Nationals have a great contest running right now. Write a comment on their post and say what you're thankful for. One lucky winner gets their family holiday picture at Nats Park. Sounds cool, right?

What I love most about it is that since it is a "leave a comment" contest, you can read what other people are thankful for. Heartwarming. Pleasant change from a lot of comments that lots of grumpy folks leave lots of places.

So, here's what I wrote - a little look into my "things I am thankful for this year."

This year, I am thankful for:

Family

Friends

Rain Delays that turned into Dance Parties

Curly W’s

A community united despite tragedy

Hugs

Kisses

Tears

Freedom

Sharing Memories of Loved Ones Departed too Soon

Our new home beckoning with excitement; our old home bidding adieu with memories to last a lifetime

Heroes that give of their time to serve our soldiers, sailors, airmen and veterans

Friends who invite us to join in the celebration of those heroes

An entire ballpark singing the National Anthem as one voice

Online screen names that blossomed into real lifefriendships

The opportunity to raise two little Nats Fans with tender hearts who have endless possibilities before them as they grow into young women, ready to face the world, with a love of people tucked inside to guide them through (and a love of baseball carried along the way)

The amazing adventure yet to come

 --------------------

What are YOU thankful for this year?

Truth (Five Minute Friday)

I've been quiet a few weeks. Lots going on. Preparing to move. Saying goodbye to a one-of-a-kind man. Plus the usual mommy-ing, working, and trying to find my long-lost sanity :-)

I missed writing the post a week and a half ago. (the week of grace). And so I decided to give myself some grace, and not be all fretful over having not posted. That worked ok, but I discovered in the past week that I really missed it. I missed taking the 5 minutes to dump my heart on the screen. So this week, as Friday approaches, I am catching up with the post from this past week - because I can't wait all the way until Friday to pause for myself - I need the break. The brain focus. The diversion from the pile of unpacked stuff in my house ... and I need it now.

So, here's my post on TRUTH.
the rules:
1. write for 5 minutes, no editing, typos welcome
2. Link up with the lovely writers popping over to visit on Lisa-Jo's bench
3. Leave a little encouragement for someone else who came on the writing journey this week.

Go.
I try to always write with grace in  mind. I share a lot on here, but nothing I wouldn't want my kids to read someday. Which includes how I reflect on things that happened with some very important people. I'll not lie about stuff, however, words can be chosen carefully to allow others to form their own opinions without the slant I give them in some cases.

And so it is with truth. Someone very special to me - someone who once held my heart - got mixed up in some very unwise choices. It is what it is. I found out, but chose not to confront. Rather, I waited for the truth to come out - for him to face the reality of what was happening. And so it did, in time. As I think about this, years later, I sometimes wonder why I waited, instead of just jumping on the information and taking a different path.

But then I realized this week, that it's the same way with me. I make mistakes - unwise choices - choose the less smart path. And if someone just tosses it in my face, then I get defensive. I try to justify. I ignore the underlying issue - that I didn't make the best decision. And when I figure it out on my own - or rather it comes to light in a way that doesn't put me necessarily on the defensive right away - if it's a useful warning given rather than a blow up confrontation, then lo and behold, I own it. I embrace (sometimes begrudgingly) the need to change. Or fix. Or redirect. Or apologize, or whatever.

And with that recognition, I feel I chose wisely all those years ago to just wait and let it surface in the right timing, instead of the forced timing. He's still not connected the dots, but he will. And my girls will. And I won't have to be the one to do it. Truth learned is better than truth forced upon us.

At least in this house. 

Stop.

Together (Five Minute Friday)

Writing for Five Minute Friday, but I'm going to break a rule today. The word is so fitting, and I refuse to impose the zero editing, five minute limit this time, as you will see in a minute.

Generally, we follow these rules.
1. Write for 5 minutes on the word of the week, and don't edit or backtrack. Just throw it out there.
2. Link up over here with the rest of the crew.
3. Read the post before yours and leave some love.

Rule #3 is the only non breakable rule. I will leave some love for my fellow writers. But this week, as I write on together, I won't set a time limit. And I will re-read what I write at least once, to make sure it's as right as I can make it. I will still have mistakes. I will still not wax eloquent. That isn't my style. But this week, Uncle John is worthy of a re-read, so that I can get as close to putting my heart in these words as possible.

Together

The word of the day is together, and the post went live Thursday night. Shortly after I received the news that Uncle John had passed on. It got me to thinking about the last time we were together, and the time before that, and some wonderful memories of times before that. Times that date all of my 37 years on this earth.

And last Thursday night at midnight the truth was still too raw. The emotions too overwhelming for me to even begin to write of him. And a week later, it hurts no less, but perhaps I can give you a little look at my Uncle John.

He wasn't even my uncle. Not by blood. Though in some instances, friendships might as well be family. And so it was with Uncle John. One of my dad's dearest friends since they moved into our little town around the same time, 40 something years ago. My little brother took his first unassisted steps in Uncle John's living room.

I saw Uncle John at the end of this summer, at my brother's going away (welcome to DC) party. And had no idea that would be the very last time we would be together. He walked into mom's house and hollered "Jennifer Leigh..." and you know, he's the ONLY person who has ALWAYS called me by both my first and middle names together. And it never sounded like I was in trouble. That's tough to do with a kid ... and an adult. And he gave me the big bear hug I would always get, and then he asked after my girls right away. He loved them like they were his own grandkids. He and Ann (his wife. We never call her Aunt Ann. She's as close with us as Uncle John was, bit we've always called her Ann. Just one of those things, I guess...) anyway - he and Ann came out into the back yard and scooped up my girls for hugs and giggles. They visited awhile. Chatted baseball, and politics, and football. On the same side in politics, and always on opposite sides in baseball (he loved the Yankees) and football (he loved the Giants). Fun rivalries and beloved times of discussion. They hung out with us for a few hours, hugged on us some more, and then were on their way.  "We'll see you at New Year's, Jennifer Leigh".

My family always has a New Year's Eve bash. Starts at 9pm and goes until .... well, the latest I ever saw us finish was 7am. But these days we hang it up more around 4am. No kidding. Ann and Uncle John always come over after the Lions' Club dinner. Which means we see them around 1am. Ann curls up by the fireplace in the chair dad always saves for her. And Uncle John gets a scotch and the stories begin.  So, we left off with they were headed down to Florida for the fall and we'd see them at New Year's Eve.

Except Uncle John had a heart attack about 2 weeks ago and never fully recovered. Mom and dad made it down to Florida to say their farewells and he passed a week ago today. How do you replace a presence like that in a room? You don't. You love on his family and remember all the fun you had and the great stories you will tell forever.

Like the time we all went to the Superbowl party sponsored by the Lions Club. The Giants were playing the Bills. They were ALL cheering for the Giants. But the Eagles weren't in, and I couldn't succumb to the pressure to cheer for them. Not my style. So I bought a cheap NY Giants T-shirt, and I painted one of those big red circles with a slash through it right over the logo. And I wore it proudly. And Uncle John got the biggest kick out of teasing me ALL NIGHT LONG. Fun times.

Or all the nights we sat in the dining room stuffing campaign literature for my dad's campaigns. They would sign letters and package them up and stuff envelopes. I licked envelopes and stamps until my tongue was fuzzy. For hours and hours, so many times. Dad was an elected official for almost 20 years. (I am rounding). We did a LOT of campaigns. Yes, I had a sponge to help with the envelopes and stamps but I always stuck my fingers together. So I was safer with a fuzzy tongue. Uncle John would sit around that table and tell stories all night long.

Or the nights the guys played poker in the dining room. I would sit between Uncle John and dad and look over shoulders and learn how to play. They all had different styles, but I would learn lots of hints, and they told stories all night long while they played. The nights of just sitting up to listen and learn.

So, as I drive home this weekend to say farewell to Uncle John for the last time this side of Heaven, I am blessed with wonderful memories of time spent together. As we carved pumpkins this week, my girls said "look, mama. Yours looks just like Uncle John with that big mustache." I took a look, and so it does.

I am thankful that my girls have known Uncle John. I am thankful for the blessing he has been to me, and my family. We miss him more than words can say. So we grieve this week with his wife, his children, his grandkids, and all of those who knew and loved him. And we smile with memories of time well spent. And his mustache - whenever we see one on someone else, we'll remember our beloved Uncle John.

our pumpkin with the mustache

Uncle John, Ann, and their granddaughter Samantha Jane

Uncle John with Samantha Jane (2007)

Why I Walk

I am writing over at Brandie's today. I met Brandie through Twitter - she's a walker in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer in Chicago. She asked me to be a part of her guest series in honor of Breast Cancer awareness month. 

WHY I WALK

I’ve posted bits and pieces of why I walk in the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer every year. Why I skip … hop … walk … trudge … plod 39.3 miles year after year. All those verbs – because on different legs of that journey ...


Click here to read the rest of my post, and meet Brandie and read more about her journey as a breast cancer survivor, and the folks she's met along the way.

Laundry (Five Minute Friday)

Welcome to Five Minute Friday. Where we follow 3 easy rules and join a big crowd of friends doing the same.

1. Find the word of the week and write for 5 minutes. No edits, typos welcome. Just write.
2. Link up here with the crew.
3. Build the community - encourage a heart - by visiting the post before yours and leaving a comment.

That's all. Come and share with us.

This week's word: LAUNDRY

Confession: I have trouble getting laundry done from start to finish. Ever since the world of single motherhood became a piece of my story. Because I use my bed as the staging zone to fold.

Wash - no problem. Dry - no problem. But fold ...and put away? Well, I've always used the bed. When there's two people in the bed, it necessitates being finished before bedtime. Folding and putting away has never been my strong suit, even back to college days now that I think about it.

But with no one on the other side of the bed, and tired, weary mama bones at the end of a full day, it's now all too easy to shove the pile to the other half of the bed and just crawl in my side, with a thought of "I will do it tomorrow."

Except tomorrow I am tired at the end of the day, too. So the mountain grows. And some days the girls and I giggle as we dig through the pile. MOUNTAIN.  Mount Washmore, we like to call it. Looking for that pair of pants that my 5 yo is INSISTENT on wearing TODAY. RIGHT NOW. Even though she has eleventy-seven pairs of pants. And it's 85 degrees. She wants those. And she's willing to dig for them, so I let her.

We're moving (close by) at the end of November. And the laundry will be in the basement, it looks like. Maybe that will be the catalyst to change my pattern. I can fold it downstairs before I bring it up to the room.

Or ... maybe not. But a girl can always dream. A habit can be changed, one load of laundry at a time...

Ordinary (Five Minute Friday)

It's Thursday. So I am late enough that I missed the link up altogether. BUT I committed to trying to do this every single week. So I will write without linking, though you can read the other lovelies here. And then maybe I will write again in a few hours. On time for the new week. Or maybe not.

Five Minute Friday, where we follow 3 easy steps and just let it all out there.
1. Find the word, write for 5 minutes flat - no edits, no overthinking, no backtracks. Typos welcome.
2. Link up at Lisa-Jo's place.
3. Read the post before you and leave that brave writer a little love in the comments. It takes a lot to toss your thoughts out in the internet world and share them for others to see. Help a friend feel heard.

Ready? Go.
ORDINARY

We don't do ordinary here. Ordinary, to me, implies without excitement, or without deviation from the general expectation of something. Here? Can't tell yuo the last time that happened.

We do crazy. We do fun. We do love and laughing. We do crying, and anger and hot mess of drama. 3 girls: 37, 8 and 5. And a couple of "underfooting" cats. (That's the 5yo word for always wrapped around our ankles making mama trip in the kitchen).

We do early mornings and late nights, and movies when we should be sleeping. We do ice cream for dinner - because that's how mama makes it OK to get an ouchy flu shot that mama can't even have herself. We do homework and crying over homework we don't understand.

We do playing with little tiny toys that leave tiny shoes in mama's bed to make it hard to lay down. We do giggles and make-your-own-bubble-bath mix.

We do baseball and rain delays. And cheering. And crying over traded players. Even players the team only had for 3 days.

We do everything with gusto. We never hold back. We do verse memorization to help us learn and grow - and for recall when we all need it after one of those anger lash outs.

We do grace. We do forgiveness. We do a mixed family, of mama, 2 kids, 2 cats, plus daddy, stepmom, brother and a dog that live 2 miles away. We do traveling and adventures. And we do moving. More often than we want.

But ordinary? I don't think so. Not in this house. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

STOP.

PS: Lisa-Jo mentioned this was a  repeat word. I didn't think I'd been writing long enough to repeat. But apparently I have, WOOT! So, for the record, the last time we DID have an ordinary day, I actually wrote about it.  

Write (Five Minute Friday)

It's Friday. (Yes, it's Wednesday. But it's writing day, so it's Friday in my mind. Work with me.)  Five Minute Friday where we stop, write for 5 minutes (no edits!) and then link up here, and then go read some more lovely writing from the community flash mob of writers. Come along with us, won't you?

This week's word:

Write.

Five Minute Friday is really why I write.  It’s the thing that reminds me once a week to stop. Spill some thoughts. Collect some thoughts as just me – not work related. Not necessarily kid related, though sometimes they are. Nothing but whatever pops in your head about a random word.

Yet that “random” word isn’t really so random. At least for me. For me, it’s the peek into a world I was afraid to touch. A dive into something I don’t usually view myself as good at. A topic for one reason or another that I need to devote some time – at least 5 minutes to.  And on the whole something I have NEVER liked. Except for letters to my pen pals. And now, after several months of writing on Fridays (or the day closest after Friday when I make the time) I find myself looking forward to it. GASP. I actually LIKE taking a mjinute to write. Folks, there’s a reason I decided to be a math major. A distinct disdain for writing papers was near the top of the list, after my love of numbers and equations. Yes, I’m quirky like that. Numbers – another reason I love baseball. Writing – bottom of my list of to do’s. But thanks to this lovely community, this group of folks who will just “throw it out there” I think I may have found an outlet I didn’t know I needed.

Writing. Who’da thunk?

Stop.