Whining again

I'm a professional whiner. Practiced for more than 50 years.
Today I'm whining. I want to go home. I have a sick tummy. But how do you tell your boss, I'm sick. REALLY.
Oh, well.
It's cloudy outside. Big, heavy, black gray clouds. Fits with my mood. It is also Friday. I usually get excited to see Fridays.
But I have to work Saturday.
And in three weeks Jennica will be married to Tyler.
I remember when I found out I was pregnant with Jennica. It was on Halloween of 1986. Really.
And the doc said she would arrive on July 4.
Umm. Nope, I said. The kid would arrive three weeks early.
I was right. Doc was wrong. After all, she was baby No. 3 and Baby No.1, Terra and Baby No. 2, Chad were both born three weeks early. They share the same birthday. Terra will be 30 this year and Chad will be 28.
Of course I have two older children, who came with their dad. Brandon was our best man at age 5 at our wedding in 1979 and Nicole was one of the maid's of honor at age 3. I made sure her bouquet looked like mine, except with tiny flowers. Rod had custody of the kids.
I remember when I knew I loved him. We were already engaged. I got off work at the Utah School for the Blind at 10 p.m. where I worked as a dorm counselor, fancy name for baby-sitter. I drove all the way from 2nd Street in Ogden to Syracuse to see him. At that time it seemed like a long drive because there were few, if any houses on the roads. He opened the door, wearing basketball shorts and yellow rubber gloves to protect his hands while he did dishes. Behind him on the floor were stacks of neatly piled folded clothes.
He was so cute and I knew I loved him.
So when he is ticked off at me or I'm ticked off at him, I remember that night and what he looked like. He was so strong, but so vulnerable. He loved his children.
I just wanted to marry a man who would love my children. My father bailed out when I was five and my step-dad, well, that's a story for another day. One that I'm not ready to put in print yet.
So I hope when Jennica is thinking of dumping Tyler she remembers the day she knew she loved him.
I hope when Terra thinks of dumping Josh she remembers the day she knew she loved him.
I hope when Chad thinks of dumping Megan he remembers the day he knew he loved her.
I hope when Brandon thinks of dumping Ann he remembers the day he knew he loved her.
And I hope when Nicole thinks of dumping Corey she remembers the day she knew she loved him.
It's not the day they fell in love, but the day they KNEW.
It's different. Really. And it helps those days when all you want to do is whine.
Anyone got some cheese?

Choices

Today as I sat in the courtroom waiting for the cases I had planned to write about I thought about choices.
Every single person in the courtroom was there because of a choice they had made. The majority had made bad or poor choices and now faced serious consequences.
Attorneys, judges, bailiffs, prison guards, probation officers, victim advocates and journalists had made good choices but were still in the courtroom doing their jobs.
I get irritated by those who use the excuse because of choices others had made causing them problems, for example child abuse, sex abuse, domestic violence or a car accident, that they cannot go forward with their lives. Or they use the past to justify why they choose to abuse drugs, alcohol, others or themselves.
True, I'm not perfect. I have so many flaws I'm afraid if someone looks at me close they will see an ugly monstor. But I had choices. I could have chosen to wallow in my pain and not go forward. Instead, I chose to go forward.
I admit there are days it's hard to get out of bed. There are times I just want to stay home with the door shut and pretend no one is out there.
I don't know how many times I have cried over the past and not just my past as an abused, neglected child/teenager, but as a mother who made mistakes, some more serious than others.
But all I can do is go forward and pray that the sun will come up another day.
Or as Maxine said today, "I like to celebrate Earth Day by gloating that I'm not under it yet."

Can't do it

So the past week I've realized AGAIN, I can't fix everything for everybody, no matter how much I want to.
I want my children to live perfect, happy adult lives. But of course, I can't fix their problems. They are adults. They have to fix their own problems.
I can't help my husband with his job or his church calling. I can't even help my sisters with their problems.
Today I went to an accident on Interstate 15. Did I mention I'm a reporter? Crime/cops is my beat, so I cover accidents. It was horrific.
Just one car. One car. One split second of drowsy driving and a 22-year-old woman's life may have ended or may have changed. Her actions may have also changed the lives of those who saw the accident, as well as her family members and her friends.
I went home because the freeway was too packed to get back to the office. So was Main Street through Clearfield. So I took a detour and headed to my house. I walked in and I really wanted to hug my 22-year-old daughter.
She said she didn't feel well, so I didn't hug her. I wish now I did. So what if I get the stomach flu? What if that was her pool of blood on the pavement? What if the troopers were snapping photos of her skid marks across three lanes of travel? What if ....
So today I will hug more.
I'm not much of a hugger. Anyone who knows me, knows I don't hug often or much. It's because of the abuse I lived through as a teenager. I'm much better at hugging than I was 20 years ago. I know I can be better at it.
It was my daughter, who turns 30 next month, who told me when she was a teenager I needed to hug more.
Always a daughter who shows me the way.
So I can't fix things all the time, but I try. I'll just keep trying.

The beginning

The beginning of a new phase of life is staring me in the face. In a few weeks time, my youngest daughter will exchange wedding vows and start a new life. I will start a new phase. No longer will I be concerned with children at home, but start focusing on myself.
I can either sit on my butt and whine, which I'm extremely good at or I can hit the deck running.
I think I prefer option two.
I think I want to make a list of things I want to accomplish.
First, I want to get to know my husband again. I think we've been so focused on raising kids, careers and church work we've forgotten each other.
Second, I want to reduce my waist size. That means exercise. At 51, exercise is good.
Third,, I want to clean and organize my computer room and my laundry/sewing/yarn room.
Fourth, I want to clean and organize my bookshelf and redecorate parts of the house.
Fifth, I want to refinish my great-grandma's rocking chair.
Sixth, I want to write a book.
Now I need deadlines, like Julie said in the movie.
The first will take an eternity.
Second, I need to make a decrease by July 1.
Third, I need to see progress in computer room and laundry/sewing/yarn room by July 31.
Fourth, I think Aug. 31 is good.
Fifth, Sept. 31 is Okey, dokey.
And Sixth, the Dec. 31.