2015

I know it's been 2016 for 3 days now, but I've been sick so I'm a little behind on things (my Christmas cards are going in the mail tomorrow...). So 2015... what happened?

• It was a fairly big year for our little man - some highlights include:
• Turning 2 and moving into a big boy bed (January)
• Potty training (off and on for several months - probably worth a whole separate post)
• First overnight train trip to visit Nana & Papa in August (also first LONG separation from us)
• Preschool (began in September)
• We also kept a pretty busy schedule as a family:
• My trip to NOLA with my BFF in March
• Family trip to Wisconsin in July
• Adults-only trip to Maui in August (hence N's trip to Nana & Papa's house)
• 2 out-of-town weddings (Virginia and Iowa) in September
• My work trip to DC (October)
• Trip to NYC for my dad's surprise birthday weekend (November)
• Aside from travels, we tackled some pretty big projects at home:
• Gutted the full bathroom and master half-bath to create one large spa-bath complete with jetted tub, stall shower, heated floors, dual vanities, and partitioned toilet/sink area. 
• Updated the master bedroom, including new wood floor, new built-in wardrobe-style his-and-hers closets, light fixture, and paint.
• And last but not least, I finally finished my long-awaited Master's degree. The commencement ceremonies aren't until June, but technically I graduated at the end of the fall quarter (December 18, 2015). I'm done!!!

Overall, it was a pretty great year. Busy? Yes. Stressful? Sometimes. Okay fine, a lot of the time! But it feels good to have come out the other end in one piece. Where there challenges? Absolutely.

Finances were a big issue this past year. Some of the expenses were planned (trip to Hawaii), while others happened sooner than anticipated. The bathroom remodel, for example, wasn't supposed to have taken place so soon after our kitchen remodel from 2014. Unfortunately, a mold situation demanded prompt attention. Consequently, the master bedroom had to be redone as well since so much of the dust and dirt from the bathroom wound up in the bedroom carpet (gross). Money and budgets and overall financial health are all things that I would like to focus on in 2016, but I'll save the rest of my goal-setting for another post :) We also officially climbed back on the baby-making train. After a month or so of testing and whatnot, FET #1 happened in October and was unsuccessful, sadly. It upset me more than I realized it would, and so we ended up taking the rest of the year off to regroup.

So in reflecting on 2015, I would say that I'm appreciative of the progress we made in various ways, and even more thankful for the happy memories that were made. At the same time, I'm ready to close the door. Farewell 2015. It's time for a new year, a fresh start. My prayer is that we will feel God's peace and presence in our lives as we move through whatever experiences await us in 2016.

 

The Mom Guilt

I'm fairly certain that all parents - not just moms - feel guilt about one thing or another when it comes to their kids. And the things we feel guilty about probably vary from one person to the next. I've got to say for me, the guilt stuff has come into a play a lot more now that Nathan is older than when he was a newborn. While I missed him terribly and worried about missing important milestones, I never felt particularly guilty for being away from him when he was tiny. He was always well-cared for, whether it was by Dada, one or more grandparents, or our daycare provider. I never felt like I was abandoning him, whether it was to go to work, enjoy an evening out with friends or my husband, or just to run to the store for an hour by myself. Even when he got a little older and started demonstrating more object permanence and separation anxiety, it was never very dramatic. Because our schedule is so irregular and we rely on so many methods for childcare, he's always been pretty laid back about it.

Unfortunately, ever since he finally started saying "mama" a few months ago, I've found myself struggling with "mom guilt" every time I have to leave him for any reason. Maybe because I hear his little voice asking for me repeatedly? Maybe because I imagine him calling out for me and then realizing I'm not there? Maybe because he's started to act out (just a bit) whenever I'm gone for too long (i.e. the occasional overnight). I don't know. All I know is I've been struggling with a major case of it lately and it's been kind of rough.

The thing is, I know I shouldn't feel guilty. I'm very comfortable with my decision to continue working and I have a wonderful arrangement that allows me to work from home a couple days a week. My husband and I deserve - and need - the occasional weekend or overnight away together to reconnect and regroup. I can - and should - make time to see friends and be social. But then I start blaming myself for things I shouldn't...

Nathan is going through some kind of phase right now where he suddenly refuses to go to bed at night. He sleeps fine the rest of the night and he goes down for his afternoon nap without issue, but going to bed at night has become our own World War 3. Most nights I feel a nagging sense of guilt that I'm responsible for this. If only I had gotten home earlier today... Maybe if I'd gotten my act together and finished cooking dinner in time for us to all eat together... He can't fall asleep because he's laying there wondering where Mama goes all the time and why she isn't always there to play or snuggle.

And don't even get me started on the guilt factor when I'm home and need to take care of something. I know they're only little for a short time and believe me, my cleaning/decorating/organizing standards have had to be significantly lowered, but there does come a time when the house NEEDS a thorough cleaning. Or when certain projects (like a photo thing I'm helping my dad with for my mom's upcoming birthday surprise) require me to focus with out the "help" of a toddler who likes to be involved in everything. And similarly, we're at a stage where I can't really take him with me for serious grocery shopping because he's not really a fan of riding in the cart and HATES being dragged in and out of the car to visit multiple stores. As a result, for all of the above (and many other examples) I've had to block out time here and there where someone else is around to help watch him. Which means I'm "leaving" him again.

And then the guilt wheels start turning once more. Weekends are when I should be 100% present but he spent a few hours at my in-laws' house while I did some much-needed house cleaning and now he's crabby and refusing to eat dinner. This is my fault. He was looking forward to the weekend and some quality time with Mama but I had to leave him with Dada while I ran errands because we had absolutely no food in the house. Now he is clinging to me like a leech and refuses to let Dada hold him because he's afraid that means I'll leave again.

I guess I didn't even realize (until I started writing this post) just how much guilt I've allowed to pile up lately. I know it isn't healthy. I know it is not fair to blame myself for what is (hopefully?) typical toddler behavior. And it's REALLY not fair to guilt myself for doing things that are necessary (and yes that includes making time for "me" time now and then). But when I'm home alone (on nights my husband is on shift) and I've spent 2+ hours trying to get an overtired toddler to sleep after a disastrous attempt to get him to eat dinner (always his worst meal of the day), and he's STILL crying and refusing to sleep and begging me to "rock rock" with him... I have a very hard time not believing that this is all my fault and I need to be a better mom.

The end.

Feeling Kinda Blue...

My parents just left this morning after a week-long visit. It's the first time my dad has been back since Christmas, and Nathan won't see him again until we go to their house in October. He will see my mom again before then, but not until September (up until now she's been back every 4-6 weeks). It really kind of kills me that my parents live so far away. I grew up with both sets of grandparents in a 15-mile radius, and I just never envisioned my own kid(s) not having the same set-up. I haven't lived in the same state as my parents since I was 18, but I've always been super independent so it never really bothered me. Now that I have a son though... it does.

Don't get me wrong - we're still very lucky to have the other set of grandparents 5 minutes down the road from us. Even though they sometimes get on my nerves, they're crazy about Nathan and help us out a lot with him. But it also makes me sad to see him go running to my FIL, arms outstretched, yelling "Ga-ga" when he's around, and knowing he doesn't react the same way to my own dad who he sees in person maybe 4 times a year. And yes, there's Skype, which is great and all. But at this age, he's too young to really have a long-distance "relationship" with my dad (his Papa) like his nearby relationship with my FIL.

I am glad that my mom has been able to come back as much as she has (she doesn't work outside the home currently), but I know it kills her too that she's several states away and can't just drop everything to run over and help when we're in need of it. September isn't THAT far away, but at the rate Nathan is growing and changing, he's going to be so different by the time she's back. I know that makes her sad to know she's missing things.

I don't mean for this to be a depressing post. It's just that we had a house-full of guests yesterday (my in-laws, my parents, my grandfather and a cousin from my dad's side of the family, plus my friend B, her family and boyfriend/his kids) and now there's no one. The house is quiet. Nathan is at daycare (I should be working...), Paul is at work, and my parents left about an hour ago. I usually love these days when I'm home alone for a few hours (I work from home a couple of times a week), but today it just feels lonely. Today I'm just feeling a little blue...

Happy Mother's Day

Two year's ago on Mother's Day, we announced to our parents that I was pregnant. It was not the carefully-planned, cleverly-executed, overly-joyful announcement I had once dreamed of doing. In fact, I was terrified and wanted nothing more than to keep it a secret. Unfortunately, all of our parents had been involved, in one way or another, with helping us through IVF, and all were anxiously awaiting the outcome of our fresh-cycle transfer. My first positive beta had been the Monday before. After results of my second beta confirmed that we were headed in the right direction, I waited one more day (and took an additional at-home pee-stick test) before putting the "Happy Mother's Day Nana" card in the mail to my mom. We told my in-laws at dinner that Sunday. I was 4 weeks along and scared out of my mind that it wouldn't last.

Last year I celebrated my first Mother's Day as an actual mom. It was a surreal experience, and I couldn't quite shake the feeling of guilt. Somehow it just didn't feel quite right to suddenly be "celebrating" a day that I'd spent so many years dreading. Not when I knew the truth about the pain of infertility.

This year was no different. I felt awkward and kind of silly. My husband was on shift and my own mom lives several states away. There was no big family dinner. There were no flowers (we've had such a stressful few weeks that I honestly think Paul forgot until it was too late), but I did find cards waiting for me by the coffee-maker this morning. Nathan was shooting green snot everywhere and headed for a massive mid-morning meltdown, so I opted to skip church (kind of a relief - I'm not a fan of Mother's Day sermons, in general) and I put away clean clothes and dishes while he napped. We went to a nearby children's museum/park with my MIL for the afternoon. She bought the Subway sandwiches that we took for our picnic and I paid for our tickets into the park. The ticket agent gave us each a pink carnation. We ate in the park and then spent a couple of hours chasing Nathan around. It was a nice day and there was lots for him to see and do (carousel and pony rides, a train, petting zoo, slides, etc). I enjoyed spending the day with my son, and I was happy to share it in part with my MIL. But it could have been any other day as far as I was concerned. I struggled to feel the "spirit" of Mother's Day.

This evening I was reflecting on why that was. I read back over a text conversation I had this morning with my good friend AJ, and I realized she had hit the nail on the head. Once you've experienced the pain of Mother's Day (for whatever reason), you can never forget. Mother's Day can be difficult for a variety of reasons, but having experienced your own difficulty with it, you become acutely aware of all the other reasons people may be struggling on that day. As I scrolled through my FB newsfeed, I mentally checked off the names of people I knew who might be struggling. Some I saw still posted something generic or even upbeat - but reading between the lines I could practically feel the pain. Others who are frequent post-ers were mysteriously absent from the FB world today. I wanted to write something, and I wondered how to say what I felt in my heart.

In the end, here is what I wrote as my Mother's Day FB message to the world:

"Mother's Day will always be a bit of a mixed bag for me. While I've been blessed to know several amazing mothers in my life (including my own!), there was a time when I dreaded this day and the reminder it brought that I wasn't part of the "club" that I so badly wanted to join. As a good friend recently articulated, it's hard not to think about those who aren't moms (and want to be), those who have lost children, those whose moms are gone or are not well, and those who are estranged from their moms. To anyone for whom today was painful, I'm sorry. Please know that you aren't alone, and I hope and pray that time and/or circumstances bring you peace."

Within seconds of my post, the little red notifications flag lit up. Some of the "likes" were from people I expected. What got to me were the ones from long-lost friends and vague acquaintances who I barely know in real life - people who don't normally respond to anything that I post, but who were clearly affected by what I wrote tonight. My cell phone chirped - a text from a co-worker who is struggling to raise her daughter in a city that is miles away from any family and who is barely on speaking terms with her own mom. She thanked me for my post, said it was a reminder she needed today. Several "likes" from people I either know or suspect have been through infertility struggles, many of whom suffered miscarriages. More "likes" from friends whose mothers are in heaven. Even a couple from friends whose children are now in heaven. A private message from someone I went to high school with who just wanted to thank me for thinking about the "other" mothers out there on a day that really sucks for them (I suspect she is in the throes of IF and may have even miscarried). Comments and more "likes" from people I know who have broken or even non-existent relationships with their mothers. 

I honestly didn't expect such a response. I thought perhaps my post might reach a couple of people - close friends with whom I've had these conversations in real life. But as the tears rolled down my cheeks and the notifications rolled in, I realized just how many people may have needed this reassurance today. I don't know most of who reads my blog and I don't necessarily write to reach an audience, but if you're reading this and you are one of those for whom Mother's Day sucks, I hope this message helps you even a tiny bit.

So... Where Was I?

Sometimes life just happens and you have no choice but to roll with it. My last post was 2 weeks ago (March 31) and my grandmother was undergoing a heart catheterization at the time to further evaluate her congestive heart failure and narrow down the treatment options; they discovered an artery that was 85% blocked and needed a stent. On April 3 she had an endoscopy to check for signs of internal bleeding that could raise her risk level if she were to have the stent placed (therefore requiring blood thinner). Within a couple hours of the endoscopy, she was taken by ambulance to the local hospital in acute respiratory distress; she was intubated and then transported by ambulance (they wanted to airlift but weather was bad) to another hospital in a larger city where her cardiologist's team resides. I left work around 3 pm, drove home, picked up a suitcase that Paul had packed for me, and drove 3 hours south to meet my uncles at the hospital. My mom is Grandma's medical power of attorney, but she lives several states away and couldn't get a flight out until the next morning and she needed me to be there to update her and help facilitate Grandma's care. I spent all night in the hospital with my uncles and Grandma. It was one of the worst nights of my life. She was unable to be sedated while intubated because the sedatives made her blood pressure drop too low, so all night long we watched her thrash and gag and fight the tube down her throat.

By the time my mom arrived on the 4th, they had taken the tube out and Grandma was breathing on her own but still in the ICU. She had pneumonia, her blood sugar from her diabetes was extremely high, her kidneys were struggling, and we learned she had had a small heart attack which was most likely the cause of her respiratory distress the previous day. I spent the remainder of that weekend at the hospital with my family (we did eventually get rooms at a nearby hotel that offered discounts to hospital visitors). It was a long, physically and emotionally exhausting weekend. I needed to be there with Grandma and to help my mom and her brothers with all the paperwork and decisions, but I missed my husband and my son (thankfully my in-laws were able to step in and help with Nathan while Paul was on shift that Saturday). There were many conversations about death, dying, and end-of-life care. I work in the field of oncology - this is nothing new to me. But this is really the first time that I was intimately involved in discussing, explaining, and ultimately documenting someone's wishes and advance directives.

I returned home on April 6 (after a semi-disastrous experience trying to implement Grandma's DNR orders and advance directives - thanks to unfortunate timing and a very upsetting, highly inappropriate interference from a medical resident who handled it quite poorly). Grandma remained in the hospital and my mom stayed nearby (with help from her brothers) for all of last week while they continued to evaluate and stabilize her condition. Last Friday (April 11), Grandma underwent a procedure to place a stent in the artery that was blocked; at the same time, they were able to complete a sort of temporary repair to one of her heart valves that is causing the trouble. Friday afternoon, Paul, Nathan, and I drove back down to the hotel by the hospital and spent the weekend there. We returned home yesterday evening, and Grandma was also discharged and sent home. This is not the end of the road, there will be more to this story. Likewise I have so many thoughts and feelings about all the events that have transpired over the past 2 weeks, but I'm not even sure where to begin. For now I think I will let it all just simmer...

I set new mini-goals on March 12, and it's time to check-in on my progress (or lack thereof). It has been a difficult 30+ days. Shortly after I wrote about these goals, all 3 of us got very sick. My mom came to visit just as we were recovering; having her around was very helpful, but it did change up our routine a bit. Then, less than a week after she left, all the drama with Grandma began. Where does this leave me? In need of a re-set button - ha!

1. Fitness. I was supposed to workout at least 5 days per week, including at least 1 run per week. I definitely did not meet this goal. I worked out zero days while sick, then squeezed in 1 run and 1 long hike while mom was here. I may have averaged 2 or 3 workouts per week the rest of the time, but all the traveling and hospital time definitely did NOT help. There were no other training runs either :( So... mini-goal for the next 30 days? Same as before. I really need to keep this up and make it a priority. The number on the scale hasn't budged much lately, but I can tell a difference from February in terms of strength and endurance, as well as how my clothes fit. I definitely don't want to backslide!
2. Healthy eating. Another fail :( My appetite in general has been horrible ever since I got sick. And all the stress has only made it worse. When I do eat it's because I know I need to, but junky stuff is all that appeals to me unfortunately (ice cream! CHIPS!). I was supposed to be planning meals, shopping ahead, and tracking my calories in MFP. Being sick screwed up planning and shopping for the first half of the month; then once I did plan and shop ahead for the second half, I ended up being gone for a large chunk of it! I also pretty much gave up tracking calories while at the hospital. We were either eating high-calorie restaurant food (whatever was nearby and convenient) or crappy cafeteria food, and always at weird hours of the day/night. If there's anything positive to say about this mini-goal, it's that I can definitely tell a difference in how I feel by NOT achieving it: I feel like CRAP. I'm sluggish and tired and my whole GI system is whacky. I need to get this under control again. Mini-goal going forward: 1) resume meal-planning and preparation, 2) resume tracking calories in MFP, and 3) figure out some kind of detox to do for the next week or so to get my system straightened out! 
3. Education. I'm not even going to get into detail about this. The story is the same as with all my other goals: sickness + family crisis + unplanned travel = ZERO achievement. Going forward: I must spend at least 2-3 hours per week on my capstone/thesis. No if's, and's, or but's about it!
4. Organization. I had aimed to spend 1-2 hours per week on organization and special projects, and I have to say, this is the one mini-goal I might have actually achieved (or come close to anyway). I wrote about my closet/wardrobe project in another post, and I'm still very happy with that progress (although my "donate" pile is still taking up space in the corner of our bedroom, so that needs to be gone). I did not get to work on my photo projects at all, so I'm going to keep that as a goal for the next 30 days. I think I will also set a mini-goal to tackle the "office" room and do some serious sorting and purging in there 
5. Finances. So I set goals to 1) eat out a maximum of 3 times (FAIL), 2) set aside cash for weekly expenses to help with budgeting (tried to do this for Paul's meals on shift and gas money... and then FAILED when the hospital visits interfered), and 3) reconfigure how our paychecks are split for direct deposit into various accounts (never even tried to do this so... FAIL). I think I will keep this simple: for the next 30 days, my goal is to work with Paul on pricing out various aspects of our upcoming home renovation so we can get a more precise estimate from our contractor and hopefully get the ball rolling on our construction loan! I really should do a separate post about all of this anyway, so stay tuned!

The moral of the story here is that sometimes you set goals, and sometimes, despite your best efforts or intentions, you wind up getting derailed anyway. I'm not even that disappointed in myself. Do I want to do better? Yes. Will I pick up and try again over the next 30 days? Definitely.

My Favorite Time of Year

I love fall. I love living where there are actually four distinct seasons each year, but if I had to choose one season to live with all year round, it would be fall. I love watching the leaves change color. I love the way it smells outside. I love bonfires and hot cider and hay rides. I love going to the local pumpkin patch and carving a jack-o-lantern. I love decorating my house with gourds and mini pumpkins and cute scarecrows and other fall-themed items. I enjoy the fall holidays, which are less about the stress of shopping for gifts and more about the family togetherness (at least for us). I like seeing the neighborhood kids parading around in their costumes and handing out candy. And I absolutely LOVE Thanksgiving.

I've waited a long time to be able to share my favorite time of the year with a little one, and this year, I finally get to do it! It's been a blast so far. We've been to an apple orchard and road on a hay wagon (it ended up being a cold, nasty kind of day, but we still had fun). We went to our favorite pumpkin patch and they owners (friends of my in-laws) let us into the petting zoo for free! Last night we carved a pumpkin with Nathan. And in a couple of weeks, while we are in NY visiting my parents, we will take him trick-or-treating for the first time. My brother will also be joining us in NY for an early Thanksgiving. I haven't celebrated Thanksgiving with my immediate family (parents, brother) in over 10 years! I can't wait.

Here's just a few of my favorite pics from our fall adventures... The excitement and joy on my little boy's face just warms my heart :)

 Little lumberjack.

Helping pick an apple (which he promptly tried to eat).

Pretty tree in the forest preserve by our house.

A boy, a wagon, and a pumpkin.

His mischievous smile :)

Picking out a pumpkin.

"Riding" to the checkout line.

Frankenbaby.

Petting a baby chick.

Looking a bit devilish next to his pumpkin.

What do you do with a giant jack-o-lantern? Put the baby in it, of course!

And then he decided to slide down inside of it...

 He thought sitting inside the pumpkin was the funniest thing. Which it kind of was... :)

Slowly But Surely & Mom/Nana to the Rescue

This will be a combination post since, well, I'm short on time and neither topic seems to be enough to do as a solo post...

First things first, I've been weighing myself intermittently since declaring that it was time to start getting serious about the post-baby weight loss and tone up. When I made that declaration, the scale said I was at 179 lbs. Today marks the first time (post-pregnancy) that it dipped into the 160's (169.8 to be exact). Woohoo! My weight does fluctuate quite a bit throughout the day (sometimes as much as 5 pounds) but I've checked it a couple times today and I think it is safe to say I'm making progress. I still have a way to go to get to my goal, but progress is progress. And while I haven't gotten as far on the "tone up" part as I'd like, I did recently discover that I can once again fit into 2 more pairs of pre-pregnancy (size 8) pants.

This news is just the sort of positive kick-in-the-butt that I need to get back on track. I kind of slacked a bit after vacation, and was actually feeling a bit discouraged looking at vacation pictures and not seeing as much improvement as I'd hoped. Nevertheless, this proves that things are moving in the right direction. With the garden really starting to produce in full force, I've got no excuse to not make healthy eating choices. Last week, we made a huge pan of roasted veggies and just ate that for dinner. It was filling and delicious. This week's goal is to reintroduce healthy proteins (as in, NOT three-meat frozen pizza) and go back to drinking a daily Greek yogurt smoothie.

In other news, I had a bit of a meltdown on Saturday. Paul had just discovered that he is signed up to work a 48-hour shift over Labor Day weekend. That will be his 4th weekend double shift this month. I can do the single-parent thing during the week, and I can handle the occasional weekend double. But this month has been out of control. Normally when Paul is on a weekend double, I can drop Nathan off with my in-laws for a couple of hours while I run the kind of errands that are hard to do with a baby or speed clean the house. They get to see their grandson and I get a mini break to catch up on stuff, so it's a win-win. But my MIL had knee replacement surgery a couple weeks ago, so neither she nor my FIL are available to help out right now.

All this to say, working all week and single-parenting all weekend is starting to wear on me. The double shift for this coming weekend had been accidentally left off the family calendar (even though Paul agreed to the trade shift months ago) so finding out about it last minute was kind of the straw that broke the camel's back. In the process of venting to my Mom about it, she happened to see a good flight deal. And since my dad also has to work all Labor Day weekend, she offered to come here. She arrives Wednesday evening and will leave Tuesday after the holiday. My mother is an angel. I'm soooooooooooo thankful that she has the means and flexibility, at this stage in her life, to drop everything and come help me. Just having another person around to help hold/change/feed/entertain Nathan or start the dishwasher or harvest the garden or help do whatever else needs doing will go a long way towards restoring my sanity. On top of that, she is a superb organizer, and I have a couple of projects in mind that could use an organized touch.

So that is all. Just wanted to write a quick post to share the good news. Still hoping to eventually finish some of the other, half-baked posts that have been rolling around my brain lately. Who knows - with my mom here - maybe I'll get around to that over the weekend!

Advice from Papa

My paternal grandfather (Papa) will be turning 80 in less than a month and my aunt is preparing a memory book, of sorts, for his birthday. She asked all of us to contribute - letters, cards, pictures. Below is what I wrote:

Anyone who knows my Papa knows that he loves to give advice. He always has plenty of it to spare, and is not particularly stingy about doling it out. Over the years, Papa has given me a lot of advice. Some of it was requested. Some of it was… not. Some of it was helpful. Some of it was… well, unique. Some of it I heeded. And probably a lot of it I did not. I am, after all, a Stephens, and if nothing else we are an independent (some might say headstrong) breed. Nevertheless, Papa had advice for pretty much any situation that life presented (and some that were just theoretical too).

As a kid, some of his advice confused me. You know the nursery rhyme that goes:

“Georgie Porgie, puddin’ and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry!”

Papa had his own version just for me that went something like this:

“Ashlee Pashlee, puddin’ and pie, kissed the boys and made them cry!”

He recited this often to me when I was a kid, and always followed it by saying “Now, you don’t REALLY kiss the boys, do you? Because you should stay away from boys!” Of course, I was well aware that boys had cooties, and I had no intentions of kissing any of them. But I was never quite sure what to do with this oft-repeated bit of wisdom. Fortunately he gave this one up when I started bringing home the man that is now my husband…

As I became a teenager, most of his advice to me was focused on driving. Papa had a LOT of advice about driving. I can remember one time, in particular, riding in the car with Papa, Nana, and Billy. We were going over to Highland to eat at Taco John’s and Papa was driving, as usual. For whatever reason, he chose that trip to lecture Billy and I on the necessity of “escaping the semi-trucks.” Not only did he list all the reasons not to trust semis (they are big, they could run you off the road, something about wind tunnels and velocity that had Billy and I shaking our heads…), but he also demonstrated the exact methods for “escaping” them. Essentially, he said to floor it, pedal to the metal, until we had gotten around them. And that is exactly what he did. Billy and I were shocked – Papa was actually telling us that it was okay to speed (his speedometer broke 80 at one point) temporarily in order to avoid a potentially dangerous encounter with a semi. At the time, we thought it was just another weird piece of advice from Papa. Looking back now, I can see the metaphor for life. Rules are there for a reason, but occasionally, they may need to be bent or even broken in instances where following them might pose a greater danger.

When I was off at college, Papa of course had lots of wisdom to offer about college life. Having been a student, teacher, and eventually a college president – he knew a thing or two about it. There were times that I consulted his advice on things related to my education. There were also times I asked for advice in dealing with “life” situations – for instance, when an acquaintance I had met through college friends ended up in jail and was asking for bail money. Papa’s recommendation: only lend money to a friend if you would be fine never getting it back. I mulled it over, decided to lend the money – and never got it back.
Over the years, Papa gave out lots of other advice:

• Don’t mow the grass wearing flimsy shoes!

• Always travel prepared – keep a blanket, flashlight, flares, water bottles, and a can of vienna sausages in your trunk for emergencies.

• Early to bed, early to rise! That is how God intended it!

• Invest in your future – focus on your education.

• Lots of things in life, like fly fishing, take patience. If you don’t have it – cultivate it!

• Don’t be afraid to be a leader.

I could probably go on for several pages, but perhaps Papa’s most valuable advice to me can be best summed up by these words taken from one of his favorite old songs:

“Life is like a mountain railroad
With an engineer so brave
We must make this run successful
From the cradle to the grave
Watch the curves, the fills the tunnels
Never falter, never fail
Keep your hand upon the throttle
And your eye upon the rail
Oh, blessed Savior, thou wilt guide us
Til we reach that blissful shore
Where the angels wait to join us
In God's grace forever more.”

My interpretation of these lyrics goes something like this:

“Life will send you on some crazy paths – some easy and straight, others difficult and riddled with challenges. But if you keep your focus where it should be (on the Lord and His teachings) you will stay on track.”

Thank you Papa – for all your strange, funny, interesting, profound, random, insightful advice.

Happy 80th Birthday!

Love,

Ash

Thanksgiving - A Time to Remember

Thanksgiving will forever be a time that I associate with my Nana. Growing up, we alternated feasting with my mom's side of the family (Grandma and Grandpa) and my dad's side (Napa and Papa). Both families lived in the same town as us, so we'd sometimes mosey over to the other one's house after dinner to spend time with them and maybe eat leftovers for supper. While my Grandma always made wonderful Thanksgiving meals, that is not the holiday I associate with her. Grandma's specialty, in terms of holidays, has always been Christmas Eve. When I think of Thanksgiving, I think of Nana. There are several years of memories stashed away in my mind of Turkey Days at Nana's house, but perhaps the most significant are from her final three years...

It was 2006 and I had just begun dating Paul. Although not a requirement to spend the holidays with someone you've been seeing for only two months, Paul was adamant in his intention to spend Thanksgiving with me and my family. He had to work the night before though, so I had driven on down to Greenville and the plan was for him to join me on Thanksgiving. He got up at 5:00 a.m. to drive the four hours to southern Illinois. This was a big deal. He had already met my mom and Grandma - they'd come up to visit me over Halloween weekend the previous month. This trip would not only be his first to my hometown, but he would be meeting the majority of my extended family on both sides. I was excited but nervous. I had an inkling at that point that he just might be The One, which meant that first impressions would be of utmost importance.

As I was drinking coffee in Nana's kitchen and watching her begin the various preparations for the day, she asked me how things were going with Paul. She asked if I thought this might be "serious." I think she knew. Paul arrived around 9:30 that morning. Nana was impressed at his timeliness. So far so good. The rest of the family started to trickle in over the next several hours. Cousins, aunts and uncles, my great grandmother, etc (my parents and brother were living in New England at the time and usually only traveled back to the Midwest for Christmas). Turkey Day 2006 was a success. Nana's food was, as usual, outstanding. The house was filled with warmth and laughter and I felt like Paul's presence amongst all of us was quite natural. My cousins, uncles, and Papa all grilled him mercilessly and I was pleased to see that he held his own. Nana liked him immediately and gave me several knowing looks throughout the day. Paul's impression of it all: he liked everyone so far but he DEFINITELY felt comfortable with Nana. She was good at that - making people feel welcome and at ease. The word stranger was hardly in her vocabulary and we almost always had "extras" at our family dinners (friends, random college students, and others who had nowhere to go for the holiday). Thanksgiving 2006 marked the beginning of a more serious phase in my relationship with Paul.

The following year, 2007, we were again in Greenville for the holiday. The memories of that year are now bittersweet. Paul and I were engaged by that point, and the wedding plans were underway. About a week before Turkey Time, Nana called to ask me if I had any special requests for the meal. She always made sure to serve everyone's "favorites." I asked for her made-from-scratch creamed corn and we chatted a bit about travel plans. She was coughing a lot, so I asked if she'd been sick. She brushed it off, saying that it was just a bad cough that she couldn't quite seem to shake. I don't remember if she had had an x-ray or if she was going in for one soon, but either way she didn't seem worried. I didn't think much else of it either and the next thing I knew it was Thanksgiving Day and we were arriving at Nana and Papa's. That year's feast was another success, as always. There was some grilling of Paul, but there was even more talk of wedding plans and engagement pictures. It was a happy, care-free day. It was also, as it turns out, the last truly happy and care-free holiday we ever spent with Nana. She was officially diagnosed with advanced-stage non-small cell lung carcinoma (lung cancer) on Christmas Eve that year. Looking back, I will always be grateful that we went to Greenville that Thanksgiving. We had talked about celebrating with Paul's family in Michigan, but I had felt a strong pull towards Greenville and I am so glad we ended up there for one last big, happy, Nana-style Thanksgiving.

Nana's last Thanksgiving was actually in 2008. By then, Paul and I were married, an occasion that Nana had been able to attend in spite of her on-going battle against the cancer. We were so blessed to have had her there. That had been September. By November though, her situation was declining. She had had to go on oxygen the week after our wedding. The last picture I have of her, actually, is from the weekend after the wedding when we had just returned from our honeymoon and were in Greenville for a second reception. She had wanted to give us our gift in person and waited until we were at the house afterwards to give it. The pictures I have from that day are of us opening the gift and hugging her and Papa. She is wearing her oxygen in the pictures and for some reason, I've never been able to take those photos off my camera. I've never displayed them anywhere either - they are not in with my other wedding/post-wedding photos, nor on any of my online albums. They just sit on my camera's SD card, frozen in time. I cannot bring myself to delete them but at the same time, it is as if by not displaying them, I don't have to remember her that way, looking truly weakened and sick, at all.

Thanksgiving 2008 was a quiet one for Nana. My aunt and her family were in town that year, and they had a small meal, prepared by my aunt. Nana was not able to eat much, from what I hear, and she was also not able to talk much without coughing violently, but she was still smiling. Paul and I were in Michigan with his family. On Friday, we got the call from my mom that Nana had been admitted to the hospital. I don't recall if it had actually been late Thanksgiving night or early that morning. I was panicked. I wasn't ready to admit it to myself or to Paul, but deep down I new this was the beginning of the end and I was suddenly desperate to get to Greenville. We were on our way to a Detroit suburb to visit a friend, but Paul offered to leave then and there and drive all the way. After talking more with my parents, I decided I could probably wait to return home as planned later that evening and then drive down on Saturday. I made it to Greenville Thanksgiving weekend, 2008, to see Nana for the second-to-last time. I returned once more, two weeks later, to say goodbye. She passed away hours after I left to head home.

It is now Thanksgiving morning, 2011. I still miss my Nana every day, but I no longer feel sadness about this holiday. I am able to think back to all the happy years and memories and picture Nana as she was then - a big smile on her face, wearing an apron, and stirring up magic in the kitchen. I am a big believer in traditions, and so this year, I am making Nana's famous creamed corn. We are celebrating with Paul's parents, grandmother, and uncle this year. My mother-in-law and I are sharing the cooking duties and everyone will be coming to our home later this afternoon. I am looking forward to serving them Nana's creamed corn and when I do, I know that she will be looking down from heaven and smiling.