They told me it would happen. My sisters, my brother, my friends, strangers in line at the grocery. I didn't listen. In fact, I despised those words, "You're going to miss this stage."
Over the last three years, I've learned so many things about my dad. But two stand out the most.
So the text from my friend Caroline went something like this: "Handgun classes and kickboxing! You go girl! What's next? Eating number 5 at Pad Thai?"
This past Wednesday we moved our eldest into her new home away from home for the next four years.
You read that right. After a very uneventful two weeks waiting for something funny, dangerous, or even inspiring to happen...nothing. I started and stopped about 30 different story ideas. This happens sometimes but this time...nothing.
There's rarely an occasion my boys and I can have a conversation where they aren't trying to talk over each other or fighting. I never know where these times of curious questioning and mostly peaceful exchanges will lead but since I fancy myself a cool parent nothing is off limits.
I had a terrible dream last night. You were leaving for a trip. A trip alone. A trip without us; your parents and little brother. We were getting ready to check bags when the attendant asked for your passport. We forgot it. I panic, offering to pay whatever in order to get a "quickie passport" printed at the gate.
Eight weeks ago I brought two new family members home. A mommy cat we named Elphaba and her baby Max. Both were cuddly and docile cuties. Until the third week when Elphaba went into heat.
My parenting responsibilities always require that I go into overdrive during the summer months.
Our oldest was not quite a year old when we took our first official "family vacation." I was still getting the hang of new motherhood so the idea of getting out of town sounded PERFECT.
Just 24 hours after my last column appeared in The Wilson Post, I started to breathe normally again.
I'm sad, I'm scared, I'm constipated. Or why I want you to know I'm in therapy.
As they say, all good things must come to an end, and on Sunday, May 17, at exactly 2:30 p.m. at College Hills Church of Christ in Lebanon, the Year of Madison bit the dust.
So I got a mammogram today. It sounds like it was a spur of the moment thing. It was, actually.
Every so often while in conversation with another mom or dad, one will say, "Be glad you have boys. At least you don't have to worry about fill in the blank."
It's no secret to my friends, family and anyone wandering the cleaning aisle of the local grocery that I don't enjoy cleaning. I enjoy cooking, eating, reading. I do not enjoy cleaning.
With Spring Break now over, the writing is on the wall. And as hard as I try to keep my eyes tightly shut, whenever I open them just for a moment, I can see the "Year of Madison" quickly coming to an end.
We had a death in the family last week. While the deceased has (or had, rather) four legs, this did not make his sudden passing any less painful.
It's not like we can't remember the deadline. Just like Christmas is always on Dec. 25, Uncle Sam's birthday presents from Aunt Becky are always due on April 15. Even so, every year, I find myself scrambling through faded receipts making sure to count every deduction.
With Snow-mageddon- Part 2 finally behind us and spring looking like it's here to stay, I did what many of you probably did this weekend. I broke out the summer wear.
Children, teenage boys in particular, are wonderful... most of the time.
It started happening again. I can't sleep. Rather, I can sleep, I just can't STAY asleep.
This leads to a frame of mind that's an ideal breeding ground for worry production. So I worry. Worry about getting back to sleep turns into worry about work, bills, taxes, life insurance, dementia, cancer, Ebola, my car's engine light that keeps coming on, my oldest driving, even deflated footballs - stupid Tom Brady.
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