Change in Tide

Earlier this afternoon, I was all but ready to post another "motherly angst against teenager" post.  As I drive 12 year old to a school event, I made the conscious decision to simply bury the issue.  I came home, hugged my 14 year old and told him I loved him  and sarcastically added that we will make it through.  Albeit a humorous additive to life, this is not what holds down the weight to my days.  The significance to my life always and forever will be my husband and children and I have ultimatelly found balance between my home environment, my need and desire to parent my children and my goal to be a supportive wife to my husband.

 But....

I am again, called to grieve and carry on with a friend.

This past December, Joy had to deliver some life changing news to her children. In addition, her back gave out on her and she has been coping in this life during the Christmas season with a very compromised physicality.  

Without wanting to face the reality, it has been getting progressively worse and because of this, her world has been in great need.   Today, her 10 year old daughter and I went out to complete the birthday shopping for the soon to be 13 year old this Saturday.  Upon returning home, Joy texts me to let me know that she her leg is going numb below her knee.  She calls the doctor and he orders an MRI.  How do you go to an ER with 4 scared kids and tell them that Mommy needs to get an MRI....the understanding that a back needs to be fixed is the logical view, but the emotional weight of a sick parent is too much to carry on young souls.

As she and I were on the phone talking, my 14 year old was outside shoveling the remainder of the snow off the driveway.  He was in great need of raising the remainder of his Ski Lift Ticket.  I approached him with a smile on my face, "Well, dear, you are in good luck, I need to go to the hospital, and YOU get to babysit your baby brother.  You should be free and clear with your finances by tomorrow."

So, with great enforcement, one friend comes in, gathers all of Joy's children to bring them to Grandmas house.  I arrive and get Joy into the car.

I sit as she lays upon the bed and tell her that I am writing.  I do not tell her that I am tearing on the inside as to why this is happening.  There is no *good* in this.  The intake nurse states, "It says here that David Plaisted is your emergency contact - is this still the case?"  "No, he died in March" came the quiet reply.

I write.  I write through the bad, the awful,, the ugly and the good.  I am trying to find the good.

Tomorrow, I will pile 5 large teenagers in my car with skis and snowboards, helmets, boots, etc.  I am able to afford a living memory for my son and I think to a certain degree, I am encouraging this friendship that he has with his very good friends.  Friends that any mom would be happy to have in her home.  This is good.

Thanks for listening.

It's Quiet Now...and what it brings is everything

The airliner above begins to descend into the Minneapolis Airport. A child breaks the silence with her dry cough. The coffee steams to the left. I sit in the furthest corner of this house, distinctly surrounded by windows. Both hands comb through this head of hair, expecting inspiration.


The plane will land and passengers will scatter with significant momentum.


What is my significant momentum?


Life is relative. This is a boring sentence and excusable at times, but undeniably true. It is hard to focus and yet, your conscience knows the steps in front of you. Life takes a claim on you - scooping you up in its timely breeze. Each of us with our own story - looking to our beginning as we struggle and strive to find our end.

Sometimes you fight the ride and your heart beats with yearning. However, and far too often, we let tomorrow gain speed on us and simply wait in compliance.


Another airliner passes over head. Passengers will soon be told to adjust their seat trays and sit in the upright position.


My 'lost in the moment' presence finds me where it always is...what i know...mothering to four. The children are physically and emotionally scattered...consequently, so is their mother. Each demonstrate with patience, a weighty intention.


My oldest is struggling. Perry is struggling; or is it me? As I cuddle and rock the 14th month old and read Miss Spider's something or other, I sense the shift in scale. It is Perry's time. He is the tilting the scale and my efforts are falling short. Not seeing a solution to balance.


A scratch of the head, a readjustment on the chair and another sip of coffee - now luke warm.


We are at the screaming genesis of teenage-dom, but i must address the questionable caveat. Perry enters into this realm with an irrefutable strength of character. He is already 'heard' in this family. What is the process? The world turns his axis on end and he does not have the humility or ability to accept the change.

Another evening flight is heard overhead. Passengers shift, look through their bags, check their surroundings, gather belonging and garnish energy to begin.

I recently told a friend, "I'm through with Perry." She replied something to the affect, "I didn't know we had those cards. Can you give me your 'I'm through with you' card when you are done?"

My body responds- kinked neck, tense back, exhausted evenings.


The airliner makes it's decent - the fourth one this evening. Each passenger takes a deep breath, unbuckles their belts and disembarks from the journey.


Lost in this moment. Focused on this moment. Looking for balance.

Thanks for listening