Creepy,...but Fun?

I decided to give this subject its own blog entry. It doesn't belong with "Enchanted and Unexpected." I'm not even sure where to start (or where it belongs), so...bear with me.

Creepy and spooky isn't really my thing (I've mentioned this before). Well, not when it comes to books, anyway. I've always loved to watch a good horror film, late at night, with my daughters. It's something we all enjoy when we're in the mood for it. I've never really been into creepy books, though,...until now. What's changed? Well, let's see if I can figure it out. (After all, I write to know what I'm thinking.)

I'm not quite sure how it happened. It started with The Butterfly Garden by Dot Hutchinson. I was a bit unsure of that one. But there was something about it I liked. I also enjoyed the short novel The Grown-Up by Gillian Flynn (both were mentioned in my June 5th post). I decided to test out a few more "creepy" ones to see if I actually liked the genre, or if I was just fascinated with something new. 

I just finished Don't Breathe a Word by Jennifer McMahon, and I can definitely say I'm now hooked on weird, creepy novels where I'm never quite sure where they're going to end up. Don't Breathe a Word definitely fits that bill! The funny thing is, I actually became interested in this particular book because of the vast differences in reviews I read on Goodreads when I was trying to scope out some creepy books for my "testing" process.

One review gave McMahon's novel one star, and the reviewer ranted and raved about how stupid the whole premise of the novel was. She ranted so much, I had to stop reading the review because I was afraid she'd spoil it for me. I also read a couple of reviews where people just loved it. I was...perplexed. I decided to read it for myself and see which side I was on. You know, just for fun. :)

I can definitely say I'm in the category of people who loved it! (Maybe that one-star-reviewer is a Twilight fan?) It's even hard for me to use the word "love" when talking about a creepy book, but I DID love it - creepiness and all. I think the real fun for me is how busy it keeps my brain, as it tries to figure out how the tale will turn next, what is real and what isn't, and trying to decide if it trusts the narrator. 

Don't Breathe a Word is about a woman, Phoebe, who finds herself in the middle of a family mystery. Her boyfriend's sister disappeared fifteen years ago, and the mystery has come back to haunt them. It's difficult for Phoebe to know what is real and what isn't. She's haunted by her own demons, while she tries to help him figure out his and what happened to his sister. The novel goes back and forth between present day and fifteen years earlier. It is dark, it is twisted,...aaaaaand it is plays on that little girl "niggle" in the back of my brain that remembers (quite clearly) when I used to jump as far out from my bed as possible for fear of something grabbing my feet. 

The story really pulled me in, and I finished it much faster than I wanted (3 days),...but I couldn't help it. It is a definite page-turner! I am happy to say that McMahon has other novels along this same line, and I have just started the next one, The One I Left Behind, and I am thrilled!

I'm still wondering, though, why I'm suddenly interested in this genre of books. Hmmm...

I am aware I read books for a variety of reasons. Most of the time, it's to understand more about myself and the people around me. It's to find connection, comfort, insights, adventure, and laughter. When I think about the books I usually read, I know all the things I love about them. 

So, why the attraction to the weird, the morbid, the demented, and the creepy? 

I like that it's a puzzle I'm trying to solve, that's certainly part of it, but there's more to it than that. I think it's because...there's no love. (Wait, I'm checking my brain.) Yes,...yes, I do believe that is part of the appeal. I've never really read "romance" novels but, as my youngest daughter pointed out to me not too long ago, almost every story has some kind of love story in it. And she's right. In fact, I just remembered the reason I found The Butterfly Garden. My daughter told me she'd read more novels if I'd find books that didn't have a love story in them. THAT is how I got started down this warped (but enjoyable) path! And, I admit it, I'm enjoying the books being about the mystery, the weirdness, the oddities, the crime, and NOT being about who ends up with who in the end. 

Well, I'm glad we figured that out. ;) 

Addictions, and Resolutions, and Challenges! Oh, My!

Half-Price Books is a wonderful secondhand bookstore that I never get tired of. I can always find something I like, even if they don't have exactly what I'm looking for at the moment. Their staff is always helpful and will go out of their way to help a customer find something. I don't feel like I'm going into a store when I shop there. I feel like I'm at home with people who understand my love of books.

Yesterday, when I came home thrilled with my most recent Half-Price book finds, I realized that I was now adding eight more books to a long line of books at my house waiting to be read. I looked over my recent additions with adoration, but then I looked at some of the ones on my shelf and felt guilty I haven't read them yet. I adore them, too, you know. 

Proper neck placement for book browsing

I was contemplating how serious my addiction to buying books might be when my daughter, Katie, came down the stairs and saw my new stack of books. I smiled, like a proud parent, as I placed my hand on the top of the stack. I was prepared to say, "Look at my great, new finds!" What came out instead - before I even knew it - was, "Katie, I think I have a real addiction problem." 

She laughed at me and said, "What? Buying books? So what? It's not like there's anything else you buy, and you buy at a bargain. They're good for you. You read them. What's the problem with a little addiction? Besides, there's worse things you could be addicted to."

I sighed and told her that I had plenty of books at the house that are really good books. I told her I should read those, I want to read those,...but I want to read other ones that come along, too. Katie knows I don't like to "need" something. Addiction is definitely not my thing. (I even gave up coffee for six months one time just to prove to myself I didn't "need" it.)

"Does this really bother you, Mom?" she asked me.

Katie, my "fixer"

I should mention my Katie is a fixer. She likes to have a solution to a problem. To her, life is simple - only stupid humans make it complicated. There are times I agree with her theory. She is known for cutting through the drama of most situations and just telling it like it is. It's a quality I like in her a great deal, even when it's my own drama she's calling me out on. 

"Well, Mom, does it?" she asked again.

"Yes, Katie, it does bother me. I'm a sensible person. I should read the books I already have. I don't keep books just to keep them. All the ones I have are good books, as far as I know, and I should read them."

"OK, then here's your solution. Just make a New Year's Resolution to not buy any more books until you've read all the ones you already own. See? Problem solved. Simple," she said with a smile and continued her task at hand.

I was stunned for a moment. A resolution to...not buy any more books until I read all the ones I have? Hmmm,..I had to think that over. I looked at the shelves in my library. Then, I went upstairs and looked at the bookcase I have in my bedroom. I guesstimated that I've read more than half the books I own. I also noticed I liked every title I saw. In fact, I found myself smiling at the books. I have such a wonderful selection!

I decided that if I took Katie up on her idea, I would exclude having to read all my travel books and my workbooks that I use for references and lesson planning. All the rest, though, would make a really good challenge. I also thought the one exception to buying would be my monthly book club book, but I sometimes borrow that one anyway. It isn't something I'd really have to buy. 

Hmmmm....

I was still contemplating the idea when Katie stuck her head in my bedroom. "Well, Mom?" she said, as she looked at me expectantly. I smiled and began to nod.

"I think it's a great idea, Katie! It sounds fun, and it would be a challenge for me," I said, just  a wee bit more enthusiastic than I felt at the moment. I think Katie could tell.

She grinned at me (along with being a fixer, she also loves being right). "Well, if that's the case, then...answer like Barney!"

"Ummm, I'm sorry. Like Barney?" I was a bit puzzled. The purple dinosaur?

"Yes, Mom, you know - on 'How I Met Your Mother'? He always says, 'Challenge accepted!'"

Oh, THAT Barney! I had to laugh! "Oh, yes, OK - Challenge accepted!"

(Goodness, what have I gotten myself into...)

"Et tu, Brother?!"

OK, so...I'm tired of being stereotyped. It is ridiculous that some people think if you are intelligent and well-read, you must have "no life." While I will concede there may be some people who fit that stereotype, I don't happen to be one of them. I do not live vicariously through fictional characters in novels. Please. Give me a little credit here.

The truth, as I see it, is that reading enriches your life. It causes you to reflect on your own life, your thoughts, and your actions. It makes you understand that the world is a bigger place than just the part you live in. I also think it makes you a more thoughtful person, and you operate on a deeper level of life - not just a shallow existence of one.

I do not stay holed up in my library and live my life through books. I absolutely enjoy the worlds I travel to through reading, but I also enjoy the world outside my own front door. I know how to socially interact with the world and do so quite often. In fact, as a teacher, it is imperative I have good communication skills - not only for my students, but also because I communicate with parents, administrators, and my co-workers. 

Do I sound slightly defensive? Let me tell you why.

My youngest daughter has mentioned, on more than one occasion, that I don't understand what she wants out of life because I "prefer to live in books." She says it like it's a bad thing. Of course, as I said before, I don't live in books. In the same breath she likes to throw that out at me, she'll complain I travel too much, or I'm not around enough. Have I mentioned this is the daughter who joined the Navy and doesn't even live at home anymore?

Now, I don't get too upset about her incorrect analysis. She's nineteen. It's the only excuse she needs. I also understand that she only sees me as "mom" and doesn't understand all the complexities of my life. I know she never will and that's OK, she's not supposed to understand. So, you can see why she gets a "free pass" on her judgment of me. I should also mention her judgement of me doesn't bother me. Never has. 

But, then, something else happened.

A few days ago, I was having a nice conversation with my older brother. We were talking about education and "kids today" and how technology seems to have taken over the world. In an off-handed comment, my brother said he didn't see how someone who "stuck their head in a book all day" was any different than someone who had their head stuck in a computer game all day...

WHOA! WHAT?! 

He then proceeded to make some comment about how they're both 'escapism' or 'checking out from the world' and...well, quite frankly, I'm unclear on exactly what he said after that because my ears were still ringing from his incorrect analysis that all book lovers are reclusive hermits who need to escape from the world into a book and that he thinks what book lovers do is the same as kids playing computer games.

"Who are you and WHAT did you do with my brother?"

Like Caesar, I felt betrayed. 

Some things I expect from a nineteen year old daughter, but not my older brother. He knows better. He's smarter than that. I really mulled over his words and wondered why I felt so betrayed at such a general statement coming from someone who has known me, literally, since the day I was born. I knew it had to do with something bigger than just me and my love of books.

I realized it's because I feel I fight the good fight every day of trying to teach children to read and teach them why it's important. I truly believe, in the deepest part of my heart, that reading teaches empathy and makes you a more open-minded, well-rounded individual. I think reading makes you a better person. I'm not just trying to help children become good readers. Through reading, I'm trying to encourage children to become better human beings.

To have my passion reduced to the same category as computer games was...unthinkable. Not to mention, many of the students I have who read on the lowest levels and struggle the most in their reading are usually very proud to label themselves "gamers" and brag about their skills (and the amount of time they spend) at playing games. I often get asked if reading something on their computer games counts as their "reading time" for homework! 

And...before you start thinking my students who are "gamers" may be playing things that actually require some real reading (like mystery games or educational games), let me assure you that we're talking about games from the "Halo" and "Grand Theft Auto" and "Call of Duty" series.

And my brother thinks it's all the same?!

(Sigh)

Unlike Caesar, though, I will not give up the fight because my brother also raised his verbal dagger. It just isn't the way I'm wired. Reading is important! It has enriched my life in more ways than I can say. I have learned so much about the world, other people, history, life, and myself through reading.

No, I'm not like Caesar at all. I will fight the good fight and passionately teach the importance of reading until there isn't a breath left in me,...or - as I tell my students - until they pry my cold, dead hands off the school doors...

and, even then,...my ghost will haunt every student I've ever taught. It will hover over their heads and whisper, "What good things have you read today that added something positive and insightful to your life?" :)

New Arrival!

I'm a bit behind on my blog. I'm more than a bit behind on many other things...

You see, the world stopped and then started again this past Saturday when my first grandchild was born! It's hard to explain what it's like to experience your own child having a child. Even though my oldest daughter is grown, twenty-five years old, and married,...she's still my baby. Always will be.

While I am ecstatic to be a grandparent, I'm even more ecstatic to watch my daughter be a mother. I believe I could watch her with that baby all day. It fascinates me. I've always thought my daughter was beautiful, but she's never been as beautiful as she is when she's loving on that child, talking to him, adoring him, nursing him.

I know, people expect you to go on and on about the grandbaby (and, trust me, I DO!), but I also have great love and admiration for both my daughter and my son-in-law. Making the choice to become a parent and being a parent isn't easy. It is the most challenging and rewarding job there is in this life. The way I see it, to plan for a child and willingly take on that responsibility is something to be admired.

Now, about my smart, talented, beautiful grandson...

The love and joy this new little addition has brought to both sides of the families is beyond words. We've all fallen in love with the new little man in our lives. He is the first grandchild for us and for our son-in-law's parents. There are also great-grandparents on both sides. Did I mention aunts? great-aunts? great-uncles? cousins? Oh, my goodness, so much family! And I haven't even mentioned all the love and support of friends!

Wow,...so much love for one little guy.

And now, let me introduce you to the newest star in my sky...

Holden

Heart Work

It isn't easy being a parent. In fact, it's really a great deal of heart work. No, that isn't a typo - I meant "heart work" and not "hard work," but there is that, too. While I won't get into the discussion about who is easier or more difficult to raise when it comes to gender, I will say that no matter whether you're raising boys or girls or both, the older they get - the more heart work it becomes.

I have to laugh when young parents think that the most difficult part is getting through "terrible twos" or the pre-teen stages. As a parent of grown children, I know that the roughest road is still ahead of them. It's easy when they are at an age where you can shelter them, protect them, guide them, and know where they are every minute of the day. The difficult part comes when they get older, and you know you can't "fix the world" for them anymore.

I can distinctly remember the times when my grown daughters have had the harsh realities of life hit them in the face. I know the times they've found out the world outside our home, our neighborhood, and our small town...isn't always a nice place to be. Our girls were raised to greet the world with a smile and, generally speaking, the world should smile back. Most of the time, it does. When this doesn't happen, and one of my girls gets hurt, I want to punch someone in the face and...possibly run someone over with a car. This is a natural reaction for a mother, in my opinion, - at least, it is where I come from.

When I decided to have children, I always knew raising them to be good people would be the easier part. Helping them understand the rest of the world hasn't always been raised the same way they were...would be the most difficult part. Even more difficult would be having to watch them go through their own struggles and fight their own battles, while I'm sitting on the sidelines trying to resist the urge to punch someone in the face or run them over with a car. (Are you sensing a theme here?)

I find myself at an awkward place in life these days. My daughters sometimes share their problems with me, and it takes the strength of ten men to keep me from trying to fix their problems for them. When someone is rude to my oldest child at her work, I want to punch that person's face in. If someone makes an inappropriate comment to my middle daughter when she's working out at the gym, I want to kick that guy where he'll sing a few octaves higher in the shower. And, when two jerks shock my baby girl by saying something crude and crass to her while she is in her military uniform on a military base, I want to strip off the uniform they "serve" under and run those guys over with a car NOW!

Yes, being a parent isn't easy. It's heart work.

Texas Girls

You could tell my children were raised in Texas when...

...in a sea of long, black, Navy-issued overcoats, I noticed my daughter, Cynthia, was the only sailor on the military base not wearing a coat with her short-sleeved uniform on a chilly Chicago morning. 

...much later that same evening, my other daughter, Katie, stepped out of the airport - after just flying back home from Chicago - and in to the Texas heat and said, "Give me the sun, give me the heat, I just want to sweat! I think maybe I'll layout when we get home. I need my vitamin D." 

Did I mention is was 7 p.m.? Katie didn't like the "cold" of Chicago - you know, temps of 56 - 70 degrees. Lol...

Oh, and Katie's Facebook post coming home from the airport last night? 

"Sun beatin' down, hair pulled up, face a little flushed, just jammin' out to some country music in the Jeep on my way home...yeah it's good to be back in the BEAUTIFUL state of Texas!!! God bless it!!!"

Yes, my girls may have been born in North Carolina, but...

                                          you can definitely tell they were raised on Texas sunshine! :)

Processing

You did what?!

Our youngest daughter, Cynthia (who is 19), told us a couple of weeks ago that she joined the Navy and would ship out for boot camp on July 15th. She knew we would try to talk her out of joining the military, so she decided not to tell us until she'd signed her final paperwork. To say I was shocked...would be an understatement. The ins and outs of how all of it came about, and the details that lead up to her decision, do not really matter at this point. What's done is done.

Suffices to say, I love my daughter more than life itself and stand by any choice she makes for her life. She was raised to be her own person, and she is doing just that - being her own person. We will all learn to live with the choice she made,...even me. Even though I don't like it.

Now, I don't say that for you to pass judgement on me or how I feel about it. I'm telling you this to be honest. I never expected, when I gave birth to three daughters, to have a child who joined the military. It just wasn't something I was prepared for. I respect people who serve in the military, and I am grateful for their service. I just didn't want my baby girl to be one of them. My father served in the Air Force, my father-in-law served in the Army, and my son-in-law served in the Marines. Again, I am grateful for their service. I just didn't want my baby girl to join the elite club of veterans in my family. Of course, as a parent, I know we don't always get what we want. Our children have minds of their own.

Enough said about that, moving on...

processing - to put through the steps of a prescribed procedure

My husband and I spent a good six hours on Monday with our daughter at the processing center in Dallas yesterday. This is where recruits finish up final paperwork, take another drug test, and have their final swear-in. Truth be told, it's a lot of "hurry up and wait" - something I've been told the military is famous for. Once all recruits have been processed, they ship them out on a bus to the airport to fly them to their various boot camps. Where you fly depends on what branch of the military you joined. The processing center is for all military branches.

We were the first family members to arrive that morning, though not the last, and we had the opportunity to get to know some of the other recruits sitting around in the waiting room. There are several different waiting areas in the processing center, but we were in the main one - in the middle of the room - where the rows of chairs face each other. Needless to say, it's conducive to conversation.

Being the true social person she is, Cynthia had already gotten to know some people. We found out, in a room full of recruits, only nine of them were for the Navy and three of those (other than Cynthia) were female. All the rest of the recruits were going to the Army or the Marines. Cynthia had made friends with the Navy recruits and a few others from the Army.

I really enjoyed getting to know the new recruits. They explained why they chose to go in which branch and what they hoped to specialize in. I heard about their families and how their parents felt about their choice to join the military. We talked about movies and photography and favorite foods. We laughed at Cynthia imitating her favorite television commercial - more than once. I watched them eat snacks, drink down sodas, and play on their phones. They were all very aware those things would be unavailable very soon.

It would be hard for me to tell you what those six precious hours meant to me. It would be even harder for me to tell you what it would have meant to so many of those young people if just one family member had shown up to see them off  and sit with them during their time at the processing center. You could see it on their faces, you could hear it in their voices. One young man looked at me, after he got off his cell phone, and said, "My mom was supposed to be here, but she couldn't get off from work. But...she was supposed to be here. I know she'd be here if she could." He walked away for a bit before coming back to the group.

processing - to gain an understanding or acceptance of; come to terms with

The time I spent at the center with those young recruits gave me time to process, too. It was time I needed to absorb the commitment my daughter was making for the next four years of her life. It was time I needed to understand some things about her and the people she would go to boot camp with and serve with. I had really been having a hard time accepting Cynthia's choice to join the military until those young people touched my heart.

When the time came to "ship out," all 88 recruits lined up to head to the bus. All family members were told to go outside by the bus and wait. As my husband and I stood in the parking lot, I felt tears come to my eyes when I saw those recruits walk out in a line. They all looked so young to me. We made our way back towards the end of the line where our daughter was lined with her new friends. The commanding officer gave the command, "Recruits, if you have family members here, fall out - give them a hug and tell them you love them." We both reached for Cynthia to give her one last hug. After we did, the commander said, "Recruits, if you do not have family here but you feel you need a hug, fall out - I'm sure the family members here would be happy to give you one." My husband and I happily hugged some of the other recruits, we wished them well, and told them we knew they would do great!

Before that day, I didn't know what a military processing center was, much less what it was for. It was my assumption, once I was aware of it, that it was a center where recruits go through the final steps of completing their paperwork. While that is one of its purposes, I no longer think it is the most important one. I believe its purpose is to allow time for recruits to process the commitment they've made and what their life is going to be like for the next four years. Six to eight hours of sitting around in a room, bored out of your mind, gives you some time for reflection and anticipation about the next steps you're taking in life.

For me, personally,...I had a unique processing time of my own. Things happen for a reason, you know. I am grateful to the young people who helped me at the center, just by being themselves and sharing their lives with me. I remember all their names, have pictures of all their faces, and they are forever imprinted on my heart.

I am proud of my daughter - of course, I always have been. She is who she is. I would never want her to be someone else for me. I will worry about her, I will miss her, and I will love and support her as she embarks on this new journey. I will pray for her safety and well-being and happiness, as I have always done.

A mother's journey is not an easy one. Our first instinct is to protect our children. When we sense danger, our first reaction is to hold our child close and shield them. As they get older and become more independent, it is a struggle to deny that instinct - no matter how old they are - and even when we know we should. We eventually get better at it, but it takes time...

What can I say? It's a process.

On their way to boot camp

.

The Importance of Being Silly

If there is anything we've taught our daughters that was important, I would say that the art of being silly ranks right up there with all the important life stuff you teach your children. Life is too short to take everything seriously. Goodness knows, there are enough things in life that require your full, somber attention! It is vital to know how to lighten things up a bit,...which leads me to talk about the serious business of silly pictures.

I have always loved taking pictures of my daughters. I think they are the most lovely and fascinating creatures I have had the pleasure to be around. I have loved and adored them from the moment I knew they existed, and I have always loved taking photos of them. Through the years, I have taken more pictures than I could ever account for. Because of my passion for photography, my daughters are experts at modeling for me,...ummm, so to speak.

I'm not sure when my "silly picture" cues started, but I imagine it was when my first born, Chambley, got tired of me taking her picture. It's too stressful to get even one small child to pose "just right" and, as time passed, imagine trying to get three to pose at the same time, looking at the camera, and not fussing with each other! So, I decided that when it came to picking battles, this wasn't one I was going to pick. So, when the girls were little, I would tell them to give me a nice pose and then we HAD to have a silly picture or vice-versa, depending on my mood...and theirs. 

I have years and years of silly pictures that mean much more to me than the "good" ones. It also shows that through all the stages of my girls' lives, they learned not to take themselves too seriously. They always cared about the way they looked, as most girls do, but only to a point. They liked to look nice when the occasion called for it, but they also knew all that hair, make-up, and clothing did not make them who they were. Like I said, silly pictures are important, and they taught good lessons.

A couple of years ago, I first began to realize how well my girls had learned these lessons. They have learned to be confident in who they are and don't let compliments about their physical beauty go to their heads. One day when I complimented Chambley on how lovely she looked for her new husband, she was quick to tell me the best thing about him was that he loved her (and kissed her just as sweetly) when she had no make-up on, her hair was in a mess, and her glasses on - "You know, Mom, the real me." Yes, I knew exactly what she meant. I'm happy to say that my son-in-law has a talent for silly pictures, too. 

My middle daughter, Katie, says that any man who loves her will have to love her "Prince side" - a saying she got from me for a gene we share. She doesn't mean "prince charming," she means Prince - the singer, songwriter, musician. In other words, it's more important for her to be loved and accepted for everything she is - crazy, weird, creative genius and all - than to settle for anything less. She may look like Cinderella on the outside, but she is Willy Wonka on the inside. She's dating a nice, young man now and trying to teach him the art of being silly. So far, she's doing a pretty good job of it. 

My youngest daughter, Cynthia, and I may not always agree on some things (primarily because we're both stubborn), but - I must admit - I came to understand what she likes about the young man she's dating now when I took photos of them the other day. You see, he knows how to do silly pictures...without being prompted. That says a lot. Well, that's not really all there is to it, but it's a big part of it when you understand what it really means. To quote my baby girl, she said, "See, Momma? We're alike. We have the same sense of humor, and we understand each other." Yes, I could see that.

The moral of this post, if there is one? Take silly pictures! Laugh together, love people (and yourself!) for everything that is unique and wonderful about them, and I promise the silly pictures will be the ones you enjoy the most. I know I do.

By the way, we're a nice, normal family when we're behaving appropriately for whatever situation we may be in,...but when it's not a requirement to be"nice and normal," we're silly clear to the bone. ;)

The End

Just call me "Maw Maw"...

Me and my daughter

My husband, Tom, and I just found out we're going to be grandparents for the first time! We are thrilled and overjoyed and excited for our daughter and her husband...and for us!!! This doesn't mean my blog will become a "grandparent" blog, but...I reserve the right to post an entire page of pictures when the bundle of joy arrives! ;)

Because words mean so much to me, what I will be called as a grandparent also means a great deal to me. It's important. Tom and I want to be "Paw Paw and Maw Maw." It's what our girls called Tom's parents, and we've always known it was what we wanted to be called when that wonderful time arrived in our lives. Believe it or not, we've discussed it many times. As you should know by now, I take words (which includes names) very seriously. To me, everything you say has meaning.

Where we come from, every grandparent has a different name. When they were little, our three girls had Mamaw (my grandmother), Grandmomma (my mom), Mimi (my stepmother), Granny (Tom's grandmother), and Maw Maw (Tom's mom). Our girls didn't have as many living grandfathers as grandmothers, but we also had different names for each of them. There was never any confusion over who was who, and you didn't have to add a first or last name for our girls to know who we were going to visit.

Now, if you're wondering how we can be Paw Paw and Maw Maw when Tom's parents are also called that, I should tell you that Tom's dad passed away a few years ago. For Tom, it is a way to honor his dad's memory to be called Paw Paw. For me, I'll be sharing Maw Maw with Tom's mom,...and I presented this dilemma to our pregnant daughter who assured me it would not be a problem because of distance.

You see, when our girls were little, all the grandparents lived close to us. Our girls saw all of them quite frequently. When we moved to Texas some years ago, we left all of our extended family back in North Carolina. The only grandparents that live close to my daughter and her husband, and will see the child on a regular basis, are his parents and us.

Besides all that, I like being called the same name as Tom's mom for a good reason. She's always been the one who marches to the beat of her own drum. She and I have always had that in common. It's something I've always liked about her...and myself. In my book, Maw Maw means "different" and I like different.

All that being said, you can imagine how offended I was last night when I went into a gift shop and couldn't find a charm that said "Maw Maw." They had Nana, Nene, Grandma, Grandmother, Gigi, G-ma, Mamaw, Memaw, and Mimi,...but I wasn't looking for any of those. I decided to look up the term on the internet and found this blog. If you have the time, it's worth the read and will make you laugh a bit. If you're Southern, you'll get it. If you're not, you'll get an education.

http://applejuice4everyone.wordpress.com/2009/01/23/where-have-all-the-maw-maws-gone/

I like a good challenge, you know, where you take the best of something old and make it better...and redefine what people think about it. It is time to redefine the South's definition of Maw Maw. It actually IS possible to be a loving grandmother who knows how to enjoy her own life without neglecting her family. I've always told people, "Don't try to put a label on me because just when you think you've got me figured out, I'll surprise you." Well, I will wear the "Maw Maw" label proudly, but I'll redefine what it means on a daily basis. (This is going to be fun!)

By the way, I was singing "I'm bringing Maw Maw back" to a Justin Timberlake tune last night...'cause that's how I roll! ;-)

Our son-in-law and daughter announce they're expecting a baby!

A Room of My Own

I have always valued the different stages of my life, and you can mark them by Saturday mornings...

When my oldest daughter was a baby, I loved Saturday mornings when nothing was rushed. I could spend as much time as I wanted holding her, nuzzling her neck, and singing to her. With each daughter that came after her, it only added to the sweet time on Saturday mornings. It meant holding a baby and having unforgettable conversations with little ones about everything from Cinderella to possible pet options for our home.

When all my children were past the baby stage, there was no sweeter sound than hearing them wake up in the mornings, usually whispering to each other or shuffling their feet down the hallway. There was nothing more precious than having them crawl into our bed to have cuddle time (and, sometimes, tickle time) before getting up to start our day. I can still remember how much I loved to kiss their cheeks in the mornings, and I always told them, "Morning sugar is always the best!"

As time passed, and the girls grew up, Saturday mornings became a cross between all of us desperately wanting a day off to sleep late and someone always having somewhere they had to be. Of course, that meant I needed to be there, too. We went through our Saturdays of birthday parties, play dates, gymnastics, sports tournaments, a variety of competitions, babysitting gigs and the like. Those were the busy years.

I should note that I raised my girls with a certain...philosophy. I believe to be mentally healthy we all need one day a week when we can stay in our pajamas until noon. Now, that doesn't mean you must stay in them, but you should always have one day a week where it's an option. During the "busy years," we all longed for those days off. We enjoyed all the things we did, but we missed our relax time together, and - of course - the older my daughters got, the harder it was to have us all together.

The next stage was when everyone began liking boys, dating, getting driver's licenses, and going to college. Saturday mornings, back then, were punctuated with loud music booming from three different bedrooms. Of course, I didn't mind,...since they got the 'loud music gene' from me. I just preferred when they agreed upon their "getting ready" music instead of those occasions when it felt like 'battle of the bands'! Those years, while filled with more music - and more worry, weren't quite as busy for me. The girls were becoming independent, and I took great joy in seeing them become who they were meant to be. I had no real worries about my daughters through this stage. At this time, I had never met a boyfriend I couldn't run off. ;)

Now, my daughters are all grown up (19, 22, and soon-to-be 25). All my girls are different and, while they certainly aren't perfect, I love them for who they are. While I may not always agree with them, I respect them and their opinions. While I do tell them, they have no idea how much I love them and value them as people. How could they? They haven't yet reached the stage in their lives of being parents themselves.

Today, on this Saturday morning, you can tell my life has reached a another stage. I am sitting in a room of my own, something I didn't know I always wanted. My oldest daughter designed it for me, and my husband made it come true. Everything I ever wanted in a library/sitting room is here for my pleasure.

I am sitting on a beautiful, red couch with a hot cup of coffee, a favorite book, and my laptop. I have candles burning...just because I love the way they look. My favorite blanket keeps me warm on this chilly morning. It's a beautiful day outside, and the sun's beams through the windows are beginning to warm the room. I look through the front window to see the water fountain flowing with just a little frosting on its edges. I survey my new room, and it makes me smile and gives me peace. The house is quiet, and my room invites me to read.

Life is good.

"A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." ~ Virginia Woolf

(OK, Virginia, I have the first two, just give me a little time on the third. I'll get there...)