A Trip Down Memory Lane

In my previous post, I wrote about my memories with my Grandma Delores. Based on the responses to my post, it is quite obvious how loved she is. And, how many funny, quirky and endearing things she has imparted to the ones she loved. Since most of the comments were made on my Facebook link to the blog, I wanted to repost them here. My side comments are contained in these: { }

Ashley Black {my sister}: LOL. Davenport and fingernail polish in the fridge. {yeah, the fridge is where we Nebraskans put out "pop" aka soda} I would also like to add the GIANT mountain in her yard that we would go sledding on. Although now it looks rather small! {I would agree. I had the privilege to take my kids sledding on the hill and it seemed a little less intimidating. But, the hours of fun on that hill are innumerable.}

Bridget Grant {Grandma's daughter and caretaker for many years}: Very nice. I am still crying.

Brie Grant {Daughter of Bridget and granddaughter of Grandma}: Beautifully put Sunny! Made me remember how close we all were. :) I miss grandma.

Cain Grant {Son of Bridget and grandson of Grandma}: Nice thoughts, Sunny. I loved that darn clock too.

Seth Black {my brother}: Are you trying to make me cry? I can still remember the smell of her bed sheets...sometimes you could find one of those cologne samples she would tear out of a magazine and hide under the mattress pad! When you were sick you either got brandy or ice cream...I want my stocking too! {My mom says she is saving it until he "settles down". His argument would probably be that he has been living in Oregon for 3 years.} They didn't call me grandma's little b***h for nothing. {Seth's words, not mine :)} My favorite was that she never answered the phone "hello", it was always "yeah" and I find myself doing that now. And you would never get a goodbye, she would just hang up the phone right away!

Tony Moravek {Ashley's husband}: That was pretty good Sunny. She would have really enjoyed that "kid". {My grandma called everyone kid} Her and Ashley are the same in that you go to give them a hug, and it was like nobody was there to hug back, like you were hugging a body with no return hug...just the way they are I have eventually learned to figure out. She told me that Ashley was sure lucky to meet that "Polish guy cuz he's sure SWELL..." (Apparently I am Polish) My personal favorite was the answering machine, "BLACKS AND GRANTS, LEAVE A MESSAGE!!!" {Cain and Brie lived with grandma during high school and the caps are because she really did yell} I ate a piece of popcorn off the table at BA's {a bar} right before the wedding 5 years ago and she nudged me and said, "Kid, don't be doing that. We don't want you to be getting syphilis before the wedding." I still laugh about that to this day.

Bridget Grant: Thanks to all of you for writing your thoughts about grandma. I have really enjoyed reading them. Yes Tony, she did think you were swell.

A Christmas Wish

While listening to my Sirius XM radio tonight, I had a "moment". It first began with me listening to XM channel 3 which is semi-current, incredibly cheesy Christmas music. I was honestly listening out of obligation since I have been struggling to "stay in the spirit" this year. During a break in the N'Sync, Mariah Carey etc. deluge of goofy remixes, Santa cheerfully interrupted and let me know that the classics were just a touch away on XM channel 4. And so, with a touch of my fingertip, I went THERE. Where? Over to channel 4 and 25 years ago in an instant.

I am thinking that the arrival of 'the stocking' got this "moment" to brew. 'The stocking' is one that is embroidered with Sunshine in red and hung dutifly on my Grandma Delores' mantle alongside the names: Ashley, Seth, Carter, Cain and Brie, each and every Christmas as far back as my memory goes. Ashley, Seth and Carter are my siblings and Cain and Brie are my 2 cousins and together we make the 6 grandkids on the Black side.

So, my "moment" in the car was triggered by a classic Christmas song, coupled with the arrival of my old stocking. And, in that moment, tears sprang to my eyes. Tears of joy and tears of sadness. Something I can't quite put my finger on but, I will try.

Today, my stocking is hanging on my mantle here in Southern California. It is many, many miles from Nebraska now. But, I can still see it above my Grandma D's fireplace even now as I type. Tradition held that we had Christmas Eve at her house. It was always so exciting since we got to open presents "early". My parents were steadfast in opening our presents on Christmas morning. As you can imagine, us kids were giddy with anticipation. There were always many gifts under my grandma's tree and, "Santa" arrived on schedule each year. Oh yes, a real, live santa. Of course, it was quite some time before I realized it was our friend Tom Sherlock who posed as Santa. But, as the oldest of all, I felt very privileged being in on the "secret" and took my job at playing up the ruse very seriously.

So tonight, my mind was flooded with Chistmas memories that brought me much joy but, there is a little sorrow mixed in. I have the stocking my grandma gave me because she is no longer in her home with the fireplace. She lives rather comfortably in an assisted living home due to alzheimer's. The stocking was a gift from my mom and dad as they sift through the physical memories my grandmother kept since her memories are quickly fading.

My wish is this:
I really, really wish she knows how truly important she was is my life. I am confident she knows I loved her but, I really wish I had told her a few things. So God, can you please let her know:

I loved that she let me sleep with her when I spent the night. And, the clock that shone on the ceiling was the best thing to stare up at while you fell asleep.

I loved that you could literally run in circles in her house since she let everything go and the was an actual circular path that led through her house.

I loved that an entire wall in her entry way was a shrine to those she loved. There were pictures of everyone on prominent display.

I loved that she called a sofa a davenport and when you were sick; to the davenport you went.

I loved the oversized dictionary in the hallway. I always looked up a new word when I was there.

I loved that there was a candy dish. And, you never had to ask.

I loved that grandpa's chair sat in exactly the same spot even years after he was not with us.

I loved that she kept her fingernail polish in the refrigerator. I am still not sure if there is any logic to it.

I loved that she loved the color green. 'It is the color of money, kid.' (she called everyone kid)

And, I loved that she always gave me $2 bills for all the "off" holidays like Valentine's day and Saint Patrick's day.

I would love to wrap this story up nice and tight and put a big, red, happy bow on it. Truth is, I cried while I typed it and thankfully it has no ending. I will keep the memories alive as long as I can. Hopefully I too, will pass the torch of tradition and family to my kids and grankids. My tears are not necessarily sad tears, they are the happy-sad ones. So, I will put a green bow on this "moment"...just for you Grandma D.

A Lunch Date

Jeremy and I had lunch with a great couple today. The husband is a professional golfer and just got his card to play on the PGA tour this year. Needless to say, Jeremy and I were both very inquisitive. Being athletes and competitors at heart, we were very interested in seeing what their life was like.

As you can imagine, it is a career that many men, and women I am sure, would covet. He travels the country and gets paid....to golf. :) The great thing is, he and his wife are very humble in their blessing. It took us asking many questions to eek out the "glory" of the sport. Endorsements and hob-nobbing with some of the greats while traveling with your young family in an RV was the extent of the attention they wanted to draw to themselves.

As I sat and listened with a grin spreading ear to ear, thinking of the freedom and adventure that comes with said profession, the question was posed by them, 'how do you do what you do?' This question had come on the heels of an offhand comment the wife had made about things she wished she would have known going into the sport.

And, I sat there incredulous and thought...'how do we do what we do?' The short, contrite, and canned but true answer is: by the grace of God.

Now, if you read this and know the old me and/or despise the church or are indifferent, navigate away from this page. I will not be offended. Heck, I will never know. :)

But, I will tell you the truth. I never, in my 35 years, thought that I would be a pastor's wife hanging out in a church in southern California...and liking it. Scratch that...loving it but only, by the grace of God.

Some days, I want to be a golfer or a professional tennis player. Or, a talk show host or an author. And that is because some days are downright hard. When you see people hurting or see death and sorrow and things you can't explain, you want to get out of the "God business". I want to run away and throw my hands up and fess up to the fact that I really don't have any answers, most of the time. I would like to rely on my swing or my skills and hop in an RV. But, that is for them, and this is for me.

None are greater. But, I sat at lunch today and in a split moment of time God made me truly content to be who I am and where I am at. My prayer is that for you, if you have read this far: you would be content in your spot, in your job, in this season; exactly where God has positioned you to be.

A Change of Plans

14 years ago, I was in college with lots of "plans". I was in my third year of school and working toward my major. The goal was to be a teacher and my minor was Spanish thinking it would be a great idea to be able to teach English as a second language. I had a lofty idea that I would study abroad in Spain my junior summer.

Well, all the plans changed. About a week before spring break I found out I was pregnant. Apparently all of the bargains I had made with God the week prior had fell on deaf ears and I was experiencing the consequences of my actions.

As my world "fell apart" in that moment, my biggest concern was disappointing my mom. She had me when she was 18 and the warnings of the struggle of being a young mother always hung in the back of my mind. At the same time, the wrath of my father, who was the primary source of the monetary portion of my education, coupled with the shaky relationship of my now husband, Jeremy resulted in the most confusing and tumultuous time of my life.

I finished out the school year (with excellent grades, I might add) and Jeremy and I made the decision to move to Kansas City. He had an opportunity to open the first Gateway Country Store there and I thought it would be a good idea to separate myself as far from my old life as possible. The months that followed were extremely difficult. We were young and I was bitter. Jeremy worked long hours and I had a full time job at Payless Shoes. I was always so exhausted, I would take naps in the men's size 12 shoe aisle, sitting on the floor with my head on one of those foot rest thingy's. I was SO not looking forward to having a baby or being a mother.

On October 31st, I was induced into labor due to Bells palsy, (a whole other blog post) and gave birth to an 8lb.10oz. baby boy. It was definitely a game changer.

Yesterday, my baby boy Noah Blue McGinty, celebrated his 14th birthday. It has been 14 years of joy, pain, growing and learning. Now, as I walk beside my now 150lb. 5'9" child, I know that my life didn't really fall apart, it fell together. I truly thank God that my plans did change.

A mouse story

I had a sneaking suspicion there was a mouse in my house. My dogs had been fairly skittish off and on and my daughter had spotted one peeking out from below our deck out back. My fears were confirmed when I found some mouse poop behind the trash can under the sink. Yuck.

I promptly headed to the store for some mousetraps. I purchased some fancy traps that were advertised as "Black Cats". Safe and effective. Safe for whom? And, if my neighbor's cat had been effective in the first place I wouldn't be in this pickle. I was a bit skeptical, so along with the Black Cats, I purchased 2 good old fashioned wooden traps. The kind that make you tense just trying to set them and make you wince as you gently lay them on the ground.

I placed one fancy "Black Cat" trap outside, one behind the trash and the back-up, cheese loaded, old school trap beside it and felt prepared. With the traps in place, I turned down the lights last night and headed to my room to watch a little television.

Less than 20 minutes later, my dogs began going nuts out in the kitchen. I sent Jeremy out to investigate and he quickly summoned me to the kitchen. "I think you caught your mouse." It is funny how he attached ownership of this mouse to me. It is probably because I was so bent on catching it and was taking the invasion very personal. I am totally fine with mice living OUTSIDE where they belong. But, once you invade my home, just know that I will win. However, I had no idea how far off my eventual victory was.

Standing in the kitchen, it was clear that the mouse was caught but, not dead. Squeaks and the clanking sound of the metal from the wooden trap was an early indicator that this mouse was up for a fight. So, I let it fight for a few minutes thinking it would surely end quick. Well, I was wrong. And, with my adrenaline through the roof at this point and the ick factor in full force, Jeremy and I realized we needed to take action.

So, Jeremy headed out to the garage and retrieved a broom and a box. His plan: sweep the mouse into the box and let it die outside and out of earshot. He then hands ME the broom and gives me the go ahead. And, like most normal women I batted and swatted and swept that mouse into the box while myself squealing and hopping and freaking out. It was classic late night drama at its best.

With the mouse in the box and hopefully on the brink of death, we headed out to the trash bin. But, after putting it in the trash and hearing it's flopping around suddenly amplified by the enclosed space; Jeremy decides that it is not only annoying it is also unsafe. After all, this is a super mouse and everyone knows a mouse can flatten itself to the size of a quarter or something like that. So, he takes the boxed mouse out of the trash and out front to die in the driveway. End of story? End of mouse?

As I head to spin at 5:30 am this morning, I peek in the box and the mouse is still. Since I am in a hurry I decide to just throw it away when I get back. Well, I came home with 2 coffees in my hands and a list of things to do before I take the kids to school and head to work so, I assign Jeremy the disposal of the mouse duty. He says he will get to it in a minute. (lots of football re-caps to go over, I am sure)

As I leave for work at 8:20, I hear the mouse flopping around in the box. You have got to be joking me! Incredulous, I run back in the house and tell Jeremy to drown it before I get back home. When I come home an hour later, I peek in the box and yes, the mouse is still there but, now it is not moving. So, even though he hadn't drown it yet, I felt relieved that is was finally dead.

Thirty minutes ago, I stepped outside to let my dogs run around and finally dispose of the vermin. And, believe it or not it was still alive! I just cannot tell you how much I am freaking out at this point. On one hand, I feel kinda bad for the poor thing. On the other hand, what is a girl to do? So, I take the drowning of the mouse into my own hands.

I fill the bucket and turning my head, I dump the mouse into the water and without looking put the box on top. Chewie (my dog) and I stand there for a few moments and I am trying to calm down. Dumping a mouse into a bucket is a bit overwhelming. As we are standing there, Chewie's ears perk up and I seriously hear this mouse start to cry. (well, it was technically squeaking but, at this point I am about to cry so we might as well cry together) At this point I am fairly confident that I am being punked by this mouse.

I carefully lift the box off the bucket and shockingly this doggone, super mouse is using the trap as a flotation device! Oh my Lord! I am thinking this can't last long so, I put the box back on top of the bucket and honestly pray it ends quick.

Wouldn't you know that I not only trapped the sturdiest mouse in the world but, it is also an excellent doggie paddler. It would do a few barrel rolls on the trap and land right side up every time. Stressed out and needing a little help, I called my mom to tell her of the darma. After laughing, she suggested the rock which now sits on the head of the mouse in the bottom of the bucket. Alas, I won.

But, I am not really happy about it. In fact, I do feel kind of bad. But, the reality of the situation is that mice don't belong in the house and in my house we play by the rules. As an addendum for all of you fellow animal lover/PETA people out there, I am sure there were other options. But, at this point I don't really care. If you had a mouse in your house you would probably do the same.

A Return

I pretty much dropped out of blogosphere-land. Somewhat on purpose and somewhat on accident. There are excuses galore. But, the biggest reason would be the summer with two teen/tweens in my house.

It is still so odd to me. When your children are small you are very hands on. All eating, drinking, dressing, cleaning, changing, entertaining and playing falls on your shoulders. As most moms with small children will attest to this, it is sometimes overwhelming and tiring and leaves many moms "waiting and wishing for their kids to get older".

So, my kids are older. They do many things very independently. However, they are still VERY dependent. In different ways.

Although they are capable of being alone for hours on end, it is not a good idea. Hours alone sometimes translate into hours of television, video games and computer. Which led to a summer of me being"Entertainment Coordinator" or "Boredom Buster Extraordinaire". I really can't complain though. My new title allowed me to enjoy many beach days, card games and random trips around town just to get out of the house.

So, it is hard for me to answer the age old question: "does it get easier when they get older." My standard response is: "easier and more difficult all at the same time." The great thing about parenting is that it IS always changing.

Although, school started today and I must say I AM quite happy. Shhhh....

A Proxy

I am just going to be honest right off the bat. If there were some situations and experiences that my children go through that I could be a proxy for, I would be the first volunteer.

Let me paint the picture. My son is an athlete. He plays on a level that I am somewhat unsure that I have ever played on. Now, I would like to think that when I played travel softball (slow pitch), volleyball, track and a little basketball, I played ultra competitively. And, I would like to think that I was fairly privy to real competition. But, I am fairly certain that although the sports were competitive in their time, I am confident things have changed.

Maybe it is the media. Maybe it is the hype and the highlights. But, the level of playing a sport has been elevated.

So, that brings me to today. Today Noah played game 3 of a basketball tournament.

Noah is a football player first. I am putting that out there as a defense. A shield, if you will. Because I am a protector. I am the mother who wants to yell, "Time out. Re-do. He really didn't mean to do that." Here is the rundown of the basketball games.

Game 1: 14 points. So-so play. Decent, a little upbeat but, room for improvement.

Game 2: 24 points. Awesome. Out da box (so to speak) Cloud 9

Game 3: 0 points. Decent defense. Nothing going your way. Fouled out with 23 second left.

To quote Noah, ' I laid a goosebump'. (insert giggle) No son, it was a goose egg.

And, he did. He definitely did lay a goose egg. As do many, many, many athletes.

Right. You can say this all day long. But, that doesn't change the car ride home. Or, the thoughts that go through your mind. 'I let my coach down, I let myself down, I let my dad down.'

I know the thoughts because I was the only one there. And, as we sat in the drive-thru at McDonald's I SO wanted to take his place. I wanted him to hear that these things happen. You can't win them all etc. etc. I was saying it. But, he couldn't hear it.

Yes, I can say it all day long. I can tell him that this is only a drop in the bucket. I can remind him of what he DID do. I can spin tales of my experiences. But, this is him. This is his experience. And, as much as I want to take his place in a moment of dissapointment, this is his moment to walk out.

But, it kills me. I will be honest. I want to cover him. Protect him. Tell him that it is not a big, bad competitive world. But, it is.

So, my desire to be a proxy, a substitute or someone authorized to stand in the place of him; will never happen. I am just called to be the one standing on the side. I will buy the Big Mac meal, large Coke and ice cream. I will reassure, reassure, and reassure again. I will check, and double check to see if he is okay. And, I am glad to know there is someone else who will stand in the gap.