No Despairing

Lest you think that my last entry was a downer, please understand that my life was full and complete . . .even without a father.  My mother filled my life with love and learning, answering every question I had, comforting every fear.  In addition, I had a grandfather (her dad).  I've written a little about him in my journal.

Instead of Grandma and Grandpa, we called my mother's parents "Boosie" and "Dearie".  My grandmother's name was Ruth (or Ruthie) but a neighbor kid couldn't pronounce that so she be came Boosie.  Dearie got his name because the called each other dearie. 

 My grandfather was an engineer and an inventor.  He liked to make things work better.  To that end, he invented a machine that is still in use today for baking bread.  It's a commercial machine for bakeries that holds many loaves for the whole process.  He sold the rights to this machine probably before I was born. One of my fondest memories is playing with a game he invented which we called "9's"  There were 2" cylinders of clear plastic with numbers sort of like those on a die.  It's been so long since I played the game that I can't really remember now exactly how it worked.  I believe that one of my sisters still has those game pieces.

Some of my best early memories include my grandparents.  They were very involved in the church and seemed to be well liked by everyone.  My grandfather was a man who loved his family and wife without reservation and I honestly don't remember ever hearing him criticize or shame anyone. 

So please, dear reader, think not that I despair of having a father.  I am a woman who has been truly blessed by a loving family.

Weekend Assignment . . .About a Dad

My son John asked us to tell about our dads. Like my own children, I am the product of divorce. Unlike my son, I have not even one intersting story to share about my father.  I got over it a long time ago, but the only dad I ever had was in my imagination.  My natural father gave me nothing but disappointment. 

My father was a man unable to handle the resposibility of a wife and 4 daughters (it's a tough job for anyone).  He remarried and had a so-so life.  I wish he could have had it better. 

I have the utmost respect for most dads.  It's all on the dad for so much of life.  Generally, he is the breadwinner and has less time to spend with his family than he deserves, but he makes the best of it. 

I could give you example after example of dads I've met that top the mark.  When I was a little girl, my best friend Becky lived right next door.  Every day, her father would get off the bus, walk the half block home with his briefcase in hand and sweep his hat off his head, opening both arms as Becky would run down the driveway to him.  I saw that act of love every day.  I loved Becky's dad, too.  He was the closest thing I had to a dad and the ideal I placed in my mind from then on out. He wasn't a "TV" dad like on Father Knows Best, but a real person who loved and cared for his family.

I know things have changed and times have changed, but the love a father has for his family is as real now as ever.  I know this because I'm part of the family of God and my Father loves me and all of his children all day, every day.

What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

I'm so glad Andrea doesn't read my journal.  Actually, it's tough getting her to read anything!  So I can say what's on my mind without fear of embarrassing her to death.

My little baby girl is growing up!  Maturing!  Becoming a young lady!!!  What did I get myself into?  She's getting bumps on her front and shape to her waist and behind.  Now we have to have thre first "talk"  You know the one, don't you?  The monthly visitor talk.  Ugh!

We started the talk this morning, but Andrea wasn't quite comprehending what would happen.  She asked if she did something wrong?  Was that why?  No, it happens to all girls somewhere between the ages of 10 and 15.  She asked if we couldn't talk about this when she's 15.  I told her no, that some things shouldn't be left as a surprise.  She thinks the whole thing is yucky! 

So tonite we go out onto the Internet in search of something that will give her better understanding than my lame explanations and crudely drawn pictures of a woman's reproductive systems. 

HELP!!!  I'm too old to be doing this again! 

Saturday Six

From Patrick's Place I'm going to try the Saturday Six again:

1. When was the last time you looked your significant other in the eye and told him or her how much they mean to you? Just this morning.

2. Which business do you have the longest continuous relationship with:  your bank, your auto insurance provider, your home telephone provider, your cellular phone provider, or your cable company?  How long have you been with them?  My bank - I think this one is nearing 17 years now.

3. What is the most embarrassing question you've ever been asked?  When is the baby due?

4. You have the ability to snap your fingers and be instantly transported to one of three places whenever you wish to go there.  Which three places would you select as your destinations? Yosemite National Park, The Yucatan Peninsula, Key West, Florida

5. Last week, the Reader's Choice question asked you to identify your favorite movie line.  Later this month, the American Film Institute will list the 100 Greatest Movie Lines of all time.  Which one do you expect to win? "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

6. You are given the gift of an original oil painting by any famous artist.  What painting would you choose and why? I honestly don't know whose work I would choose, but it would most likely be scenery with flowers in it.

Poor Baby!

I can't believe this has happened1  I stayed home for a while this morning so I could go with Andrea for her last parent/advsor meeting of this school year.  We turned in her work, got books for the summer and had a little chat with the teacher.  I drove Andrea home, grabbed a bologna sandwich and headed off to work.  The bird had a fit because I was leaving again, but he'll see me tonite.

I've been at work less than 2 hours and Rob has called twice.  The first time, he was upset.  Andrea was cleaning her room (I asked her to do it) and moved her bed some and broke the window.  He said she had a small cut on her elbow, but was otherwise okay.  He was not at all happy.  I understand, because we will have to pay to fix the window . . .but . . . accidents happen and I told him so.

The second call was more concerned.  Apparently, she fell through the window and had cut both elbows and her butt.  He wasn't quite sure how to handle this . . .she's at an age where daddy fixing the boo-boo on her bottom is a sensitive issue.  I told him to bring her out to me and I would fix her up. 

They arrived about 30 minutes later, bag of first-aid supplies and a change of clothes in hand.  Andrea is limping.  I took her into the kitchen and cleaned up both elbows - one is very minor, the other a little deeper.  Then I had her bare her bottom for a look-see.  Her pants and panties were full of blood and I had to peel away a paper towel to see the wound, which was fairly deep.  After cleaning, I put a pretty professional looking butterfly on and then a big telfa bandage.  Poor kid!  She looks like the walking wounded, but will survive.

I told him to take her home and let her take a nap.  She probably will, because I gave her an Advil.  Her bed is full of glass, so she'll have to lie on the couch until we get it cleaned up. Rob feels pretty bad about yelling at her for breaking the window, but since she's all right and the window is replaceable, his hugs will help more than anything.

Boring day at work?  I still have nearly 4 hours to go . . .

Ramblin'

It's Tuesday and I'm getting ready to go to work.  Andrea has a picnic or something with some other homeschool kids today and tomorrow is our last meeting with the teacher/advisor for this school year.  Time has really flown by!

I've been working about 2 months now and I'm pretty happy doing that.  It feels good to go into the office, do work and get paid for it.  It's been a vey long time since I did that.  I think the last time was like 1987. 

Not that I wasn't doing something!  I was caring for kids in Mexico.  I miss that sometimes.  Well, a lot.  Not the work, but the kids.  I doubt that I could handle it anymore.  20 to 30 kids living with you can be quite a handful.  Many times their personalities clash and they fight.  It seems there's always some kid in tears.  I guess that's life anywhere.

Sometimes I will look at a mom with a baby or toddler and get all emotional.  I want one.  Then I remember that it's not all cute and fun.  You become responsible to see that they grow up right.  That's what we are doing with Andrea.  One is enough now.  Most of our peers are done with that and are having fun with their grandkids.  Not us.  Not my sister Sharon, either.  She's raising he granddaughter.  We have more in common now than ever!

I guess I'm just rambling.  The passage of time has done that to me.  I spend more time thinking about stuff.  Not worrying, mind you - what good does that do?  Thinks always work out.  I spend more time thinking about God and my relationship with Him.  I regret some of my past, but can't change it and He's forgiven me even if I haven't and others haven't.  I can live with that.  The truth is, though  have some regrets, I wouldn't change a thing.  I like who I am today and all of that has molded me into this.

I just wish someone else could benefit from my mistakes.  Doesn't happen often.  We all have to make our own errors in judgement.

I hope you all have a good day.  Be blessed in the Lord, my friends.

 

Happy Birthday, Robert

My! My! My!  It's been an incredibly long time since I've posted to my journal.  I can't believe this!  and I have so much to say . . .

Yesterday was my son Robert's birthday.  He was 40 years old.  You can learn more about Bob and me on my other journal.  He's a special kind of son for me.  You see, I gave birth to him when I was 16 years old.  There's not enough room here to tell the story, but suffice it to say:  you can get pregnant the very first time!

I dreaded and looked forward to his birth.  I was terrified because I truly was just a little girl.  I know 16 year-olds today are really mature, but I was far from that.  I still wanted to play with dolls.  I also wanted what all teens want - to be grown up.  I just went about it all bass-ackwards. 

The night Robert was born, I lay in a very dark room laboring hard.  I felt very alone and wanted my mom.  Things were happening to me that I'd been taugt about but couldn't really understand.  A nurse would pop in from time to time and check on my progress.  She didn't even bother to turn the light on.  At some point, she came in and put me on a gurney and rolled me into the other room.  The lights there were so bright!  Someone made me roll on my side and they injected my back with something and I lost all feeling from my bellybutton to my toes.  The doctor pushed on my belly and out came a little boy.  I wasn't allowed to lift my head to look at him.  They whisked him off and the doctor finished his work with me and out I went.

Next day, I wept like a baby.  I wanted to see my son!  I knew I was going to give him up for adoption, but I wanted to see who I gave birth to.  It wasn't allowed.  We had to lay flat for 36 hours.  I told my mom and sister I just couldn't give him away.  I cried more.  They cried.  They said it was my decision.  Later in the day, a nurse came in and proudly announced, "Your SON weighed 6 lbs 13 oz and is 19 inches long."  That made it worse!  I spent a miserable night.

Next day, I was allowed to walk to the nursery to see him.  He was beautiful!  He looked like our family.  I still say he was the best looking one in the nursery.  I was proud.

Because I had agreed to put him up for adoption, he would be taken from the hospital one day ahead of me.  Even if I changed my mind, this would happen.  So when they got ready to take him, I was told I could go and hold him. 

The hallway seemed very long, the holding room small.  Once there, I was handed a baby in a yellow blanket.  I unwrapped him and looked at his fingers and toes (they were tiny but beautiful) and even checked his diaper to see that all the equipment was there.  He was soft and every time I touched his face, he would turn toward my hand.  I felt a bit detached.  All the emotion I'd had right after his birth was spent.  I knew that there was no way I could care for him.  I knew I had to let him go . . .

For years I wondered who he had become, but believed that his privacy was of the utmost.  I would never have looked for him, but when he reached majority, I would make myself available if he looked for me. 

He looked.  Before it was time, he looked.  He found me.  I was given a gift by God.  He has a great family.  Actually, he has a bunch of family!  He has the family who adopted him, and those of us who let him go.  He's found us all. 

If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is.  Space and time separates us, but heart-strings can't be cut.

Thank you, God.

Happy Birthday, Son.  I love you.