My life has taken a detour

If you were to ask me to name all the roads I drive to get from my home in Wilsonville to my office in Mount Angel, I probably couldn’t do it.

I just know when to turn right and when to turn left. I don’t pay attention to signs. Instead, I am too busy noticing the farmers planting in their fields or that the apples at a roadside fruit stand are ready or the field of sunflowers. There’s a black and white cat that likes to sun bath in a hay loft of a red barn and three elderly men who sit in rickety lawn chairs by a pond to fish. I have watched the hops grow from a few inches tall to stretching over the strings and the vineyards start with a few leaves to being able to see the ripe berries on the vine.  I love seeing how farmers make hay bales – some round, some square.  

Too busy noticing everything around me to look at the signs.

Needless to say I was surprised one morning to learn there was a large, orange detour sign telling me I couldn’t continue on my daily path. Swearing as I made my way on new roads with dips and potholes, I found myself not knowing which way to turn – left or right or go straight. In the distance, I spied Mount Angel Abbey. I knew if I headed in that general direction I would eventually find my way to work. What was most frustrating was the detour added at least 15 minutes to my commute, so I had to find a new way to work.

My life has taken its own detour.

Unexpected,  I guess. Or maybe I was just not looking for the signs.

Maybe there were signs but as I reread my blog I was too busy focusing on the positive and didn’t see the detour sign.

On June 1, my husband asked me for a divorce. We have been separated ever since. He has an apartment and I have a house with the kids. That’s all I will say about the separation.  Going into details or explaining this or that does no good – it’s like a ripping a Band-Aid off again and again and again instead of just letting the wound heal.

I will say it hasn’t been easy and at times I have felt utterly and completely lost. What’s guided me through this is my faith and the wisdom given to me by my mom and dad, grandparents, family, sister, brother and some good friends.
It comes down to this. I didn’t choose this path I am on but it’s where I am at and I have to accept that. I can choose to wallow in self-pity or I can choose to make the best of what I have been given.

I have chosen to run. For me, running is magic. I go really, really slow but it’s just a time to clear my thoughts, figure out my next move and remember to breathe and enjoy what is around me. I have discovered some great running paths near my home that I love to explore and yes, once or twice I have gotten lost but I always find my way home by asking for help.

I am reading  - there are several books on my nightstand - and my biggest stress reliever – besides running - is cleaning. My sister gave this great cleaning spray – Caldrea – which smells wonderful and makes cleaning fun. I even spent an exciting Saturday night cleaning the grout between the kitchen tile with a toothbrush and baking soda after mopping the hardwood floors.  

This is my life. Not what I expected. Not what I planned but it is what it is.

My goal is to show my children yes sometimes life knocks you flat on your ass. And just when you think you can stand up, it comes along and knocks the wind out of you.

That’s when you have a choice.

Just lay there, feeling sorry for yourself and feeling things aren’t fair.

Or get up, decide what you want in life and find a way to get it.

My goals are to be happy and healthy. To always remember that just because someone is smiling their heart could be aching. To give more than I receive and that little acts of kindness can make a difference. To remember I define who I am – no one else. That sometimes a good book ot movie or song that makes you cry is what you need along with chocolate . Always chocolate.

I am on a new path. But I am not lost.

I will keep running. I will finish my novel. I will run a half marathon this year. I will – and this is my toughest challenge – find a new job. I will be a good role model for my children. I will remember to ask for forgiveness when I fail and to say thank you when I have been blessed. I may miss the signs but I won’t miss the beauty each day brings.

I will remember this is my life. I don’t get to always chose what happens but I have the power to decide how to deal with what comes my way.

I chose grace, humor, chocolate, running, reading and most importantly – my children – always my children. For they are my inspiration and my motivation. They are the reason I chose to be strong, to believe things will get better and to achieve my goals. I chose to love and to forgive.

Today, I was at a coffee shop that I normally don’t frequent. There was a sign by the water jug that read “Life is one big road with lots of signs. So when you are riding through the ruts, don’t complicate your mind. Flee from hate, mischief and jealousy. Don’t bury your thoughts, put your vision to reality. Wake up and Live,” a quote from Bob Marley.

There are so many roads for me to explore. So much to learn.  I realize there are challenges before me and the road will be rough in places. I accept that. But I also know I can do this. I will find my way.

Here’s to seeing where this detour takes me and what I need to learn along the way.

Are you worried about Y2K 2012?

At my staff meeting today, two writers talked about preparing for either a natural or man made disaster. They shared the blogs and news stories they have read about trends they are seeing and what they are doing or have done in case the worst happens.
Is this on your radar?
Something you are concerned about?
Have you stocked food, water, supplies?
Eager to read your thoughts.

Chance or fate?

Bryan was ready to say no.

He had even typed a terse text message to Kate telling her that she needed to remember her text books and that he wasn't going to run home and get her chemistry book for her.

For some reason, he told us, he erased the text message and wrote another one telling Kate he would go back to the apartment and get her book. "She's a good kid and she's getting an A in Chemistry so I figured why not?"

At the apartment complex, he climbed the first set of cement steps, rounded the corner to climb the second set of steps and saw a toddler - about 16 months old - crawling up the stairs.

"She stood up and started falling backward right when I was behind her," Bryan said. "I caught her and carried her down the stairs."

He knocked on a few doors. No one answered. He was ready to take the little girl to the manager’s office when a 20 year old man opened a door and told Bryan he thought the little girl was in her room.

Bryan told the kids and I that he was in such shock that he didn’t say anything.

All he thought about, he said, was what if he wasn’t there at that moment? The little girl could have fallen, could have crawled where the cars are, someone could have taken her…

Chance or fate?

Confession of a Chocoholic

This was not the week to decide to go on the wagon.

I just finished writing 11 stories on graduating seniors, each around 350 words. I still have a 1,200 or more word story to write on vals and sals plus a story on the school district plus a story on the birth center plus I have to lay out the paper by Thursday and another paper by Friday.

And I chose this week of all weeks to eat healthy – translation no chocolate.

Yes, I am a chocoholic.

I decided to clean up my act after I downed a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy on Saturday plus I ate a few of Blake’s toffee ice cream bars and that's not counting the chocolate covered pretzels. I am guilty of standing in line at the grocery store and grabbing a chocolate bar and quickly eating it before I get home.

My way of dealing with my stress - trying to sell a house and getting frustrated living in an apartment – is to eat chocolate. So add the deadlines at work with the feeling of being out-of-control when it comes to selling a house and I turn to chocolate. Lots and lots and lots of chocolate.

Even before we were selling a house, a normal deadline week would consist of a bag of peanut M&Ms plus a Snickers bar.

This week, I am attempting to clean up my act so I am taking carrots, cucumbers and fruit to work to eat on instead of chocolate.

So far, my plan has worked. It hasn't been easy. There's still ice cream in the freezer and chocolate pretzels in the cupboard calling my name. Here’s to making it to Friday without falling off the wagon. If you have any tips on how to avoid chocolate, let me know.  

A priceless day ...

Yesterday was an amazing day.

Not because our house finally sold or we won the lottery. It was the small, every day moments that made it priceless.

Getting up at 8 and making breakfast for Blake before he headed out the door for four basketball games.

Going to the Lake Oswego Farmer's Market.

Helping Kate write a resume to send to Nike for a part-time job at the Woodburn store.

Driving with Kate to Blake’s games in Beaverton, getting there and seeing her run to her dad to grab the Jamba Juice he got for her and then watching her and Bryan laugh about the silly message he wrote on her Jamba Juice.

Listening to them talk about this and that. Inquire about the morning game in Salem. Kate asking Bryan for help on a report she has to write about whether or not there is a Kennedy curse, he sharing the latest news. They make jokes about the referee and critic the game.

Watching Blake play two games with his Wilsonville friends while sitting on the bleachers with the parents – who are great and caring people. Seeing Blake smile after sinking a 3, listening to Kate laugh at the stories a friend is sharing with her.

After the game, Kate gives Blake a hug and tells him how much he has improved since she has last saw him play. They get in the front seats, I sit in the back of the car, close my eyes and listen to them talk about music, the game, Kate giving her little brother some pointers, Blake telling her about a musician he likes, Kate jokes with Blake she has more arm muscle than he does, he jokes back. Kate looks at the rip in Blake’s jersey, tells Blake he did a good job not letting the guy he was guarding push him around.

Get back to the apartment, Blake changes uniforms, Kate makes a sandwich, they agree on music for a CD they are making. Back in the car to drive to Salem – the music – well, listening to fingers racing across a chalkboard mixed with a dozen screaming kids would have sound better to me – but they like it, talk about it, critic it. They chat about this and that. Get a glimpse of what it might be like next fall when Kate is a senior and Blake a freshman and they drive to school together.

Watch Blake play against a freshmen team. Watch another game of juniors. Leave around 9:30 p.m. Kate drives home from Salem, I tell her I am thankful and grateful for her driving. They decide on a movie to watch. I go to sleep knowing despite all the times they have fought over socks, T-shirts, basketball shorts, this and that, and the computer – they really do love one another and will look out for each other.

What more can a mom ask for.

Why teens are embarrassed by their parents

Apparently I am on crack.
This was the assessment of my 14-year-old son, Blake, this morning after he looked in his lunch bag even though he knows I never have used illegal drugs. Lots of coffee and chocolate - guilty.

In his lunch bag were a Tiger’s milk peanut butter and honey bar, goldfish crackers, water bottle, Granny Smith apple and two large pieces of pizza housed in a red, rectangular container.

Pulling the red container out of the bag, Blake glares at me and asks “What are you thinking? I can’t take this to school. Are you on crack?”

Translation from grumpy teen language to English – “Mom, my friends would give me crap if I pulled this out of my lunch bag. This is so embarrassing."

Putting the pizza in sandwich bags was out-of-the-question because each slice of pizza was about the length and width of a paperback novel. I didn’t have any tin foil to wrap it in.

Next best solution – natural wax paper.

"You aren't going to use that, are you," Blake asked.

"Every problem has a solution," I told him, only to cause him to roll his eyes and shake his head.

Yes, I took a large sheet of wax paper, put the pizza slices on it, grabbed some tape and wrapped the pizza up.

“Mom,” Blake said as he watched me neatly fold the corners and tuck them in, “it’s not a Christmas present.”

Looking at his serious expression sent me into a fit of giggles so serious, tears came to my eyes. My uncontrollable laughter only caused him to roll his eyes again and shake his head. (Note to readers: Blake is silly and goofy in the afternoon but he’s not a morning person.)

The more serious his expression was, the more I started laughing. His attempt to stifle his grin only made me laugh harder.

“Really, mom,” he said, grabbing his lunch and heading out the door.

"Sometimes, you just have to laugh at what life brings you," I told him. Time and time again, my children have heard me say laughter really is the best medicine.

Driving to school in silence – except for the radio blaring the latest bubble gum music – we got to school.

“Bye, I love you,” I said.

Quietly, “I love you too,” he said as he got out of the car and raced toward school and his friends.

Can I please talk to a real person?

There are few things I truly hate in life.

Most things I can tolerate, take a deep breath and say OK I can deal with this.

I hate calling the bank, the pharmacy, the schools, the doctor's office... and hearing "Welcome to XYZ. If you would like A, push 123; if you would like B, push 356; if you would like C....

And then after I pick the first option, that option gives me five more choices to select from, leaving me wanting to scream at the phone, please just let me talk to a real person.

I think what makes me the most angry is I think of all the people who could have a job if the automatic receptionists were unplugged.

Just got off the phone with my bank. I was selected to give my opinion on the customer service. The automatic receptionist skipped letting me talk to a real person and went straight to the customer service survey. When I was done pushing one for horrible service, I had no way to go back and talk to a real person.

So I had to hang up, call again and push more buttons.

Needless to say, the automatic receptionists really pushes my buttons.