I'll admit it.
I usually look forward to spring break.
But not quite like this year.
It was a rather challenging week at work.
We'll just say it involved some body fluids,
and a few physical entanglements.
Ahh, yes, the life of a para.
Comes with the territory.
While I love my job,
I admittedly get a bit tired some days.
But I can never wait to go back for more.
It is equally, if not more interesting
being the parent of special needs (adult) children.
My daughter and I headed to the store
Friday after work.
The car is always a nice place
to chat about our days.
She was happily telling me about
all of the things she did at work that day.
The girl loves her job.
I'm so happy she does.
Back to our chat.
After listing off a long string of things she did at work,
she came to her final assignment.
As she was chattering away,
I almost lost control of the car
as I wasn't sure I was hearing her right
as she told me excitedly,
"And then I filled the condoms!"
WHOA! "What did you say?
You filled the condoms?"
Her ever so innocent response,
"Yea, you know,
the stuff you put on hot dogs
"Ohhhh....you mean you
filled the CONDIMENTS?"
Wow. That was scary.
But I love being her Mom!
I just never know what
my days will entail.
And I wouldn't have it
any other way.
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
My childhood home is for sale.
I'll admit it, I considered buying it. For more than a fleeting second. I seriously thought about it.
The structure itself holds a lot of sentimental value as my dad, his brothers and their father built it. That was a long time ago. The garage held a board with one brothers name painted on it. It was my dad's younger (and sometimes I think favorite) brothers name on it. A brother lost too soon. He was only 13 when he passed. Billy. That board always haunted me. I always felt so sad for my dad. But then, it also made me feel good as I think my dad felt close to Billy whenever he saw it. I think someone in the family took that board when our home was sold. I hope they still have it.
I loved my childhood. I loved my parents, my brothers and sister. I loved our neighbors. I loved knowing everyone in town and everyone knowing I was a Maddy. I still hold a lot of pride in that name. And many of them still know me as a Maddy. Even after all these years.
Before I packed my bags and moved back "home" I was forced to evaluate why I wanted to go back. Was it the home itself? Or was it the simpler times I was trying to recapture.
It didn't take me long to figure it out. A yard full of lilacs, cats and dogs running through the grass, security, riding my bike whenever and wherever I liked. No worries. That's right. No. Worries. Ever. A life filled with laughter and love. Friends. Of feeling safe and cared about. Sitting on the front step, playing my guitar. Going to the beach with friends. Being taken to the movies by my siblings, 30 miles away. Shopping for clothes with mom, an hour away. Everything was an adventure. First job. Walking to school, every day. Baby chicks in the post office every spring. I had it all.
That's it. I had it all. And I want it all again.
That's how much it would cost to buy my childhood home. But the feelings, I can never get those back again.
So I'll stay where I'm at.
Except when I need to escape, then I'll dream of home.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
Often times, I'm not sure what's so super about it. As I sit here writing, my daughter has the flu and I, once again, have some sort of a respiratory thing going on.
Not being at work gives me time to reflect.
I was raised in a very active political family. My parents went to the caucuses. My mom was a polling judge, more then once. They even attended a governor's ball, back in the day. I can still see the beautiful high heels my mom wore for the occasion. To me, she was almost like Cinderella going to the ball. I loved those shoes. I loved my parents.
I hated politics.
You see, my family used to enjoy having lengthy (and loud) "discussions" on the issues and nominees. I recall many nights lying in my bed upstairs listening to my parents and brothers going back and forth and on and on. My young heart would flutter and my body would tense as voices were raised and a fist or two were pounded on the table. A few times, I cried myself to sleep.
But they assured me, every morning, they were only chatting and they loved the debates. Well, I didn't love them. I hated them.
Now, as an adult, I understand their passion. While I would rather not "yell or rant," I do have my opinions. I have found my passion for this country I love so much. Yes, I LOVE my country.
Observing social media, I am once again, listening to those most memorable "debates" around our family dining room table. So many opinions flying to and fro. I don't mind, until the name calling starts. Or someone tries using fear to sway my opinion. Or tells me I am not a Christian if I vote for (fill in the blank). Or that I am a hater because I won't vote for (fill in the blank). My family didn't do that. At least not that I heard. They often times disagreed, but in the end, they loved each other.
All I'm going to do is encourage you all to do your homework then get out there and vote. That's where I'm headed now...