My Cluttered Life...

My life is so cluttered, and even one piece of paper can cause me more stress than a whole pile. Take my lottery ticket for example. I don’t know how to find out if it is a winner or not. You’d think the lottery website would be easier to use. Stick in the date on the ticket, and see if it’s a winner. But of course, it isn’t that easy. I‘ve tried, and tried, but it sucked, so I set the ticket aside once again.

As I gaze around the room, I see pamphlets, receipts, bookmarks, books, my camera, which I couldn’t find three hours ago when I needed it to take to my granddaughter’s chorus program. There are files, papers to go into files, empty CD cases, and tiny DVD discs for my little video camera that I can’t find. There are photos, shoes, a water bottle, pens, and scraps of paper with notes on them, some coins, a big empty baggie, and my son’s job application. And there are books piled so high the piles keep falling over.

On the dining room table there are more files, a trust, more piles of papers, plus three stuffed files that say ‘file’ on them. How can all that paper matter enough to file it? Once I file something I seldom ever see it again, so why do I even bother?

Besides my home, my heart and my mind are cluttered. It isn’t just the ‘stuff’ that’s cluttering them up. The ‘stuff’ absolutely contributes to my emotional unrest though. I too often spend extra time looking for things, too often have to purchase something because I’ve misplaced the original, and too often am stressed out, and filled with anger, guilt, bitterness, and frustration over my lack of organization.

Just as stressful though, is my lack of control over so many other things. I don’t mind helping out, but am surprised at the extra things that come with aging parents; doctor appointments, bills, prescriptions, shopping, health, memory, and transportation problems. My siblings help out, thank goodness, but there are so many things that didn’t used to be part of our schedules, and it isn’t always easy to fit them in. Plus the emotional toll it takes when parents are no longer able to handle all their own responsibilities, is often very sad and hard to accept.

Everyone has stuff; and our lives go through stages where they are overly cluttered in one way or another. It’s at those times that I have to focus on God, and pray for wisdom, guidance, and peace. Sometimes I have to pray for the ability to forgive others, and sometimes that‘s the hardest thing of all to do. Besides that, I take emotional breaks by doing something I love, by being with positive people, and by focusing on all the good in my life. Occasionally, I have to avoid certain situations, and certain people, to keep myself sane until I am emotionally strong enough to face the challenges once again.

My cluttered heart is swept clean through prayer and praises. Even after being cussed at, yelled at, and down right unappreciated and disrespected, my worn out heart, mind, and emotions finally find comfort, strength, joy, and peace in Him; my protector, my savior, my God.

Where have all the decades gone?

My niece and nephew, both a little over thirty-years-old, were discussing (on Facebook) how they feel like they are still in their twenties. And when my son turned thirty, he text'd me asking where his twenties went. And every new decade I enter, I'm wondering the same thing, only I'm decades from being twenty, thus my wondering is about thirty years ahead of theirs.

Our twenties went into making a home, getting used to being married, and raising little ones. We had to learn how to be responsible grown-ups. Making money and paying bills became priorities. We changed lots of diapers, well, I changed diapers, husbands just didnt' do that back then, stayed up too late, that too, would be me, he always got to bed on time, made a lot of meals, me again, and lived some of the most wonderful, exciting, enlightening, and enchanting times of our lives.

Raising children, is one of the greatest joys ever. I will never forget the feeling I got when each of my children smiled for the first time, or their first belly laughs. No hugs are as sweet as a childs. First steps, first words, first tooth, first Christmas. Memories of firsts, and seconds, and thirds, abound.  There's almost no joy as complete as being the parent of  little ones. More on that later.

We had children younger than many people do now-a-days, so we were really too young to face the challenges that came in the next decade. Along with a little one, Josh, we had two teens. Because of that, the decade between thirty and forty was the most difficult one I've experienced. I actually remember, and this is so not me, of sitting in the wooden playhouse in the back yard, and momentarily thinking of either leaving town and never returning, or getting the old 45 out of the closet and blowing my brains out. That thought lasted all of two seconds, but it shows that even the most normal moms can get overwhelmed at times.

I had no idea what to do with teens. Mine were too often sassy and rebellious. They lied, fought, struggled in school, and regularly made life miserable. It felt as though I was just getting out of my own teens, which were hard enough, and now I was supposed to discipline, make wise decisions, and give boundaries.  I wanted to be friends with my teens, not their enemy! But half the time that's the role they put me in.

Some moments were wonderful. Kari won some baton and modeling competitions, and still occasionally gave out her precious and hard-to-come-by hugs. Shawn excelled in football, and had a wonderful sense of humor, when he wasn't too busy picking on his siblings. Josh had a charming calm and friendly personality and was not only easy, but was still delighting me with some 'firsts', still shared hugs and kisses generously, and had a real zest for life and enthusiasm for everything.

The next decade was unfortunate because Josh became a teen about the time the other two grew out of it. All the sudden my perfect, wonderful, happy boy decided to try smoking and other stuff. He'd always excelled in school, loved basketball, and it was now a challenge to get him to get off his butt to do anything. We finally had to ask him to move out, and he did, and to this day he'll admit that changed his life. He's now a wonderful, responsible young man, and of course, one of my favorite people.


I would have to say though, that in the last of that decade, I was blessed with someone I never imagined I would love so much, my first grandchild, Tiffany. That child, now twenty, has given me so much joy that I can't even explain it. No, she absolutely isn't perfect, but even her teen years were fun for me. She was the beginning of the greatest adventure of my life, being a grandma. There's nothing I'd rather be. Sounds ridiculous maybe, but it trumps the whole mommy thing in so many ways. And Tiffy was as loyal as they come. Kari would ask her who she loved, and she'd say, "Mommy!" Then she'd whisper, "and grandma!" 

I never suffered from the empty nest syndrom, it was more like, oh my gosh, they are finally out of here! My fifties were filled with enjoying and indulging the grandkids, all six of them. I've done a lot of writing, made lots of friends, taken yoga and pilates, read lots of books, hiked, gone bike riding, and taken long walks. I've stood on a glacier, rode in a helicopter, watched the snow pile up and the lake freeze over at our home in Flagstaff, enjoyed gorgeous sunsets, gone dancing, and taken long moonlit rides in our convertible.

Life is good, no matter how old we get. Every age has its delights, and it's up to us to enjoy them. Jet skiing, football games, playing tag with the kids, baking cookies, trying to keep up in a basketball game with a five- year-old, running alongside an eight-year-old who only trusts grandma enough to give bike riding a try, all wondrous delights! Over the decades I've learned to enjoy the moments, forgive quickly, make things fun, and to love...regardless of the circumstances.

The last five pounds.....

I have been struggling to lose five pounds for most of my adult life.  I succeeded once by sticking to Weight Watchers, plus fasting one day a week. I maintained it for a whole year (go me!!!) by continuing to fast one day a week. Then I quit fasting, and it came back, slowly but surely. And it has been back for a whole year now. I know that five pounds seems like too much to some of you, and like I'm being ridiculous to the rest of you, but when my clothes are too tight, it feels like I'm being pinched all day long! No one wants to be pinched for hours on end. Typically the pinching occurs on my thighs, where fat rushes to first, and lasts longest. If I go even a pound over the five, and sometimes I go four pounds over, the pinching occurs on my stomach too! OUCH! I only have so many pants/shorts/capris that I can wear while hiding the fact that the top button is not buttoned! (The rest of my pants/shorts/capris are made so that flaps that are usually held down by the buttons, instead protrude out from under my blouse looking like I have the belly button of someone who is 24 months pregnant! )

The problem is I refuse to buy new clothes. I've been wearing more sweats and stretchy pants and shorts lately, which makes me feel so ?????????? Comfy!  No, though that's true, it's not the word I'm looking for.... I guess the word is undisciplined, and kind of sad. Kudos to me for not eating any chocolate, my absolute favorite food in the whole world, for over fifty days now, BUT, I have made up those calories by eating sugar in any form I can get it.  Wintergreen lozenges are one of my biggest weaknesses. (These pink little disks are sold at JoAnns and are wonderful! I am like an addict in that if I am within a mile of that store, it is all I can do to keep driving in the opposite direction! And seeing how I have eaten almost the whole pack tonight, I have to admit that I don't always drive by.) Smarties, suckers, graham crackers with frosting and/or marshmallow creme, cookies, Good & Plenties, UGH! Do you know how long I have to suffer on my treadmill to burn the 600 calories I've consumed in the last couple hours. DAYS! I would have to not eat anything and walk/jog for days!

Well, there you have it. I'm confessing my weakness, and asking for advice. Who out there has lost that last 5 to 9 pounds and kept it off for a good length of time, and how did you do it?  I will begin my goal again tomorrow, maybe take the other bag of wintergreen lozenges that is 'hiding' behind the bag of ice in the outside freezer, to my daughter's house so I can't go grab it in a moment of craving! Maybe I'll go back on Weight Watchers again, knowing that if I actually stick to it, I could lose the pounds in a reasonable amount of time. And maybe I'll start fasting once a week again. The problem is that 'maybe' hasn't been working for me. Too often I just figure that I can blow off today and begin again tomorrow. But as they say, tomorrow never comes. It just turns into another today! Maybe confessing this to you, will help me to stick to a plan so that I can report to you, in a month or so, that I actually did it. That the five pounds are gone, and I'm out of sweats and back into jeans! Anyone want to join me?