Mother's Day 2008

This year I will be pampering my mom (and by default my dad as well) with a nice Mother's Day lunch. I will celebrate a week late with the boys, and that is fine by me. I hate to say it, but Mother's Day is much more enjoyable without the kids.

6 years ago, I wrote a blog on MySpace (I know, right?) about my Mother's Day. It's funny to me now, but I was pretty pissed off 6 years ago. Enjoy!

Sunday, May 11, 2008 

Happy Fucking Mother’s Day to Me It is 10:30am. This is how my mother's day has gone so far. The kids were quiet for about a half hour this morning, then decided they were going to fight with each other, and yell at each other, and tattle on each other.... I told them to get dressed so we could go get donuts. Tyler did great, but Jake complained that he had NOTHING to wear. He had clothes from last year that he didn't want anymore.  So I told him to get a job so he could buy his own clothes. After a lot more bitching he finally got dressed. We go to Hy-Vee so I can get a chocolate frosted fried cinnamon, my favorite, and Jake says, "I don't like those."  I replied, "I don't care, I do." When we got to the store, the parking lot was packed, so I had to park far away... no big deal, except today is windy enough to blow away a small dog.  We grab a basket, go inside, and go to the bakery. They have rearranged everything, and the donuts are no longer in a case where the employees have to get them for you, but are in a self-serve type case.  And guess what? They have plenty of maple frosted fried cinnamons (gross), but practically nothing else. No long johns, no bismarks.. so I decided we're just going to get Hostess chocolate Donettes. The kids of course complain. We grab some other groceries, including a gallon of skim milk, and a half gallon of chocolate milk, and some food for tonight.  And I saw something that caught my eye.. Smirnoff Pomegranite Martini.  Already mixed up and ready to drink.  I figure "why not"? We get checked out and leave the store. I am carrying 2 bags plus milk, and Jake has one bag. We push through the wind to the car, and I pop the trunk.  While rearranging bags, and my purse, I dropped the gallon of milk, which exploded all over my shoes and my jeans. I hope next year's Mother's Day can be spent child free, on a massage table somewhere... And let me tell you how happy I am that I brought home some alcohol! Good impulse buy! I have a feeling I am REALLY going to need a glass at the end of today.....

I never went back in to buy more milk. If that happened now, I would send Tyler in to get it for me. He rides his bike to Hansen's with a backpack and is our "milkman" during the summer when he's here. I LOVE that they are older now and can fend for themselves and actually help me out a bit. They still fight and yell and tattle, but I can't expect any different, since my brother and I fought throughout childhood as well. 

Here are some of my favorite pictures of the boys from that summer (2008): 

Cheesy Monkeys

 

Selfie before they became all the rage.

Pic #1:Ty is being pretty good. Pic #2: Jake is being pretty good. NEVER at the same time though. 

And to show how much they have grown up. Five years later, at the end of summer 2013, Jake is almost my height. I'm mad at myself for not thinking to take these photos every year. 

Thank you, Jacob Harrison and Tyler Elliott, for frustrating me, making me laugh, teaching me patience, and getting me off my ass to have fun playing with you. I wouldn't want it any other way. 

Love, 

Mom

The Power of the THANK YOU

I’m only 39, but apparently that is old enough to make me an “old fuddy duddy.” I believe in hand written letters and homemade cards. I also believe in thanking people in person and sending thank you notes when you can’t.

They are a pain to write sometimes, but honestly, it’s the right thing to do. If someone went out of their way for you, whether it was just a nice gesture or whether someone spent time and money traveling across the country to attend your wedding, you should thank them. It might be just a wave to the car that let you in, or a smile and quick “Thanks” to a stranger that held the door for you. But it counts. And it encourages that person to repeat those actions for others. When you stop getting thanked, you stop caring, because no one seems to care about what you've done for them.

My grandparents expect thank you cards for the $2 they send for your birthday. If they don’t receive one, they will stop sending the $2. It’s really about the principle, not the money. And as I get older, I understand that philosophy more. I make my boys write thank you notes all the time. I hope they understand that it’s important and not just busy work.  

I get irritated when I utilize my time and money for someone and I don’t even get a measly text message telling me thanks. I’m OK not getting a handwritten note, because I know times have changed, but some acknowledgement of the gift I thoughtfully picked out for you, but couldn't be there to hand to you in person would be a nice thing. I’m starting to think that when I can’t be there in person to give someone a gift, I should just forget it, since more and more of the recipients don't seem to care enough to thank me.

I like doing things for people. I volunteer my time. I give my money. I try to pay things forward. I am not motivated by money, but rather appreciation. It gives me warm fuzzies inside knowing I could do something for someone or a group of people and they really appreciate my efforts.

I volunteered to review portfolios for interior design students at UNI. The professors bought me lunch and thanked me for taking time out of my day.  I received a hand written thank you for doing something I love: designing invitations for a Main Street Cedar Falls event. I was completely floored, as I certainly wasn't expecting anything. Since I volunteered to make the invitation, I considered it part of my “job” being on the committee I am on. I want to do more for them since I know I am appreciated. I received a hand written thank you for a donation of a cool bag for the IIDA (International Interior Design Association) Holiday party. I don’t ever remember getting a hand written thank you for previous donations. A verbal “thank you” is perfectly fine, but I almost felt the need to thank the party committee for the thank you they sent me because it meant so much.

As I write this, I realize I am overdue in showing my mother in law my appreciation for her renewing our recreation center memberships. It’s now #1 on my “to do” list tomorrow. Life has been crazy busy, and my memory is horrible of late, but a belated “thank you” is still a thank you.

(Update: Here's the card I made my mother in law this morning.)

So thank you, dear readers, for taking time out of your day to read my little blog. As the number climbs on the “reads” on my page, I truly appreciate all the people in my life that take a little time out of theirs for me. 

Spring Break: An Overview

We only have the boys every other year for spring break and have traditionally traveled to San Antonio and stayed with friends. This year, those friends are in between houses and are living in a small townhouse. No room for us.

So in looking for warmer places to go I started researching South Carolina. I wanted access to the ocean. I somehow stumbled upon Beaufort.  It was near Parris Island (Marines train there and for 2 summers their Marine Band came to play at Sturgis Falls), not too far from Savannah, and not too far from Charleston. Done. I found a condo that would accept dogs too, as we wanted to take them along with us. However, once I researched a rental van, the decision was made to leave them behind.

When we go on vacation with the boys, there are always elements of historical relevance peppered into the mix, or, as in the case of our Gettysburg trip last summer, history is the main focus.  Even when we went to San Antonio, we visited the Alamo.

San Antonio 2010

We left Iowa on a Friday evening at about 7:00 pm and drove. And drove. And drove.  This is what Eric and I do on long car rides. We drive straight through. It saves a lot of time and money (no hotels). We made it to our townhouse at about 2:30 pm on Saturday.  We unpacked, we napped, went to the grocery store, showered and relaxed.

Sunday we went into downtown Beaufort and walked around downtown and drove around the area. We also headed to Hilton Head where we found a beach for the kids to dip their toes into the Atlantic for the first time.

 Monday we went to Charleston. It was rainy and cold for St. Patty’s day. We stopped by the Charleston Museum, oldest museum in the country. We wandered around downtown and ate a late lunch at an Irish pub, after watching a Pipe Band play several songs when we walked in the door. We then went to Ft. Moultrie to see some history. We toured the fort and found out how to get to Ft. Sumter. Since it was cold, we decided we would make the 80 minute drive again on Thursday.

Tuesday was supposed to be even colder and wetter than Monday, so we didn’t plan much. It ended up not raining, but it was pretty chilly. We decided to get out of the house that evening and go bowling.

Wednesday we got up a little early and headed to Savannah. I was very excited about seeing this city. We parked at a train museum, where Eric started drooling immediately, and crossed the street to the museum/visitor’s center where we purchased passes for an on/off bus tour of the city. It was beautiful. Eric couldn’t believe the history in the city. I thought the planning of it was ingenious and the trees and houses were breathtaking. I fell in love with all of the wrought iron.

 

In an effort to get back to the train museum in time to see some things, we probably didn’t see as much of Savannah as we should have. But trains are IMPORTANT people! We were able to ride on a hand cart, and ride on a coal train. It was actually a really fun experience.

 

On the way out of town, I took my friend Krista’s advice, and we stopped at Leopold’s Ice Cream. As you can see by Tyler’s expression, it was DELICIOUS! It’s probably good I don’t live closer, or I’d be 500 lbs.

The deliciousnous of Leopold's Ice Cream can not be contained.

Thursday we went back to Charleston so we could go to Ft. Sumter. We picked up our tickets for the boat ride and headed out on the water. It was a beautiful sunny day and we were treated to several dolphin sightings.  We got to Ft. Sumter and had a great history lesson provided by a park ranger. We then wandered about the fort, soaking in the history. For those of you who may not know, Ft. Sumter is where the Civil War began.

 Ft. Sumter used to be 3 stories tall until it took the impact of  73,000,000 tons of iron in battle.

We left the afternoon free so we could drive to Kiawah Island and spend more time on a beach. It was very windy and a little chilly at 63 degrees, but it was beautiful. We collected some shells and Eric built a fort, and put some new toy soldiers on it.

Friday we went horseback riding at Camelot Farms on St. Helena Island.  The boys had never been on horses before. They had a blast. 

Clockwise: Shoes, Apache, Kid, Wizard

We then went to Hunting Island State Park. It looked like Jurassic Park from the road, with all of the Palmetto trees. However, we also decided to go up the lighthouse, all 167 steps, and the view from above was all pine trees. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent in Beaufort. We went to retrieve our free chocolate sand dollars from a candy store and passed this national cemetery on the way. So after the chocolates, we backtracked. It was pretty impressive.  We then went back downtown and went through a few of the stores. The kids played at a play ground while Eric and I sat on a “porch” swing and enjoyed the sun and sound of the water.

National Cemetery in Beaufort

The next morning we packed up and headed home. It was a much longer drive home due to the GPS wanting to send us through Atlanta, and by the time I discovered that, we were an hour into the trip. We backtracked so we could go through Lexington instead. Note to self: always travel with an atlas in the car. The temperature on the car read 80 degrees somewhere in South Carolina, and by the time we pulled in the driveway at 5:30 am on Sunday morning, the temperature now read 17 degrees. Iowa was punishing us for leaving.

You Can't Tell Me What To Do...

Everyone has the right to their opinion. You don’t have to agree with each other, but you should respect each other. That’s where we tend to fail. There is an awful lot of finger pointing out there. There is a lot of arguing over political issues. A lot of “I’m right, you’re wrong.” I welcome arguments when they are based in scientific fact. If I argue the sky is green, you can retort with evidence that it is indeed blue (in appearance at least). You can argue with me that water freezes at 32 degrees Fahrenheit or make observations like, “We’ve had more days this winter below zero than any other winter in our recent history.”  These are all based in fact.

You cannot, however, tell me I am wrong in my opinion of the President, gun control, religion, gay rights, how I raise my boys, what I eat, etc. It is an OPINION and nothing you say will change my mind. My opinions are rooted in my own experiences. I am not RIGHT. But I HAVE the right to those opinions. We all do. I just wish we could all get along despite them.

Eric and I have friends on both sides of the political fence. Both of us are somewhere in the middle, so maybe that’s why we can have friends on the whole spectrum. Either that or we all just respect each other’s opinions.

I tell new mothers to listen to everyone’s advice because EVERYONE has advice, and then do whatever the hell they were going to do in the first place. I retaliated and put my boys to bed on their tummies. Guess what? They didn’t die. They didn’t have bald spots on the backs of their heads and they didn’t need to wear a helmet. They also started sleeping through the night before they were 2 months old. Yet people insist on making me feel bad about that choice.

Some people may not think I care about my boys, because I don’t smother them with attention and cater to their every whim. They would be wrong. I love them both with my whole heart. My goal in life is to create two adults who don’t freak out over the pressures in the real world, so I don’t coddle them at home. I’m teaching them to do their own laundry, clean the house, and make their own food. I’m making them independent. 

Someone berated me for my last post, asking where all the good stuff about the boys was. Well, this blog isn't about all the happy bullshit in my life. It’s not a way to just show the sunshine and ignore the rain. This is a blog about what is going on in my life, my opinions, etc. I will NEVER be one of those people who constantly posts on Facebook gushing about how much I love my kids. That's just me. I gush to my kids directly about how much I love them.  I don’t care what anyone else thinks. My kids know I love them and that I’m proud of them. They also know I can get frustrated with them. They NEED to know that. They aren't perfect. Neither am I. The sooner we learn this, the better life is going to be.

I find it very interesting to peruse Facebook to see what people's statuses are, or what articles they are posting, or what sites they comment on.  Today I was amused by a post about the 5 second rule, and how much gunk you are actually picking up on your dropped piece of food, and then it goes on to tell you a super duper ultra cleaning method. Frankly, I don’t care. Germs are good. Dog hair, is not. It depends on what I drop, on whether or not I will eat it. A pretzel? Sure!  An M&M? Absolutely!  A piece of toast, butter side down? Hell no.  I have a cold right now, but it’s not bad, and compared to how sick everyone else and their kids have been this winter, I will keep exposing myself to germs. My immune system thanks me. Some people are clean freaks and germaphobes and hypochondriacs. That's their right. I choose not to be. 

I also found an interesting post on food allergies and the 3 theories of why they happen. Heredity, the hygiene hypothesis (over cleaning too much), and the GMO theory. I know there is a HUGE movement to go away from GMO’s. According to that article and MANY others I have read, no one can actually find a link or a case in which a genetically modified food has actually hurt someone. (Please do not send me links to other articles that say the opposite. I don't care.) I personally vote for the hygiene hypothesis. Using my own kids as examples, their father and I have no known food allergies. Neither do the boys. So that shows heredity. They are eating all the same GMO stuff all the other kids out there are eating. Little Bobby can't eat peanuts, but my boys can. What’s the difference? Germs. I am a horrible housekeeper. I took both boys to Target before they were a week old, and Ty was just 2 days old. I never wiped down the carts. I only marginally cleaned off the stuff they stuck in their mouths at home and in public. Again, this is OPINION. This has absolutely no basis in fact. The only FACT is that they have no known food allergies. 

I have friends who are Catholics and friends who are atheists. I have friends who are Democrats, Republicans, and Independents. I have friends that are meat eaters, vegetarians and vegans. I personally think the latter two are CRAZY because meat is delicious, and I know all about how it ends up on my plate and I don’t care. But they absolutely have the right to eat what they want, and I will accommodate them any way I can. Because I love and respect them. I have friends who are cat lovers, friends who are dog lovers and friends who would rather not have any animals near them. I have friends that are stay at home moms and friends who are moms that work. I also have friends who don’t want kids, and I think that’s a wonderfully valid option.  That’s why we all have choices.

I will happily take suggestions on some things I could do better. But do not criticize the way I do something, or what I believe in. Do not tell me you are right and I am wrong on something that is OPINION. I may not like or agree with how you raise your kids, what you choose to eat, or that every post you put on FB refers God and how He is your Savior (because after growing up going to Catholic school, that is no longer my opinion), but I will respect it. In turn, I ask that you respect my opinions, beliefs and the way I live my life. You don’t have to agree with me. Just respect me.

Boys, Oh Boys...

Oh, where has the time gone?

I was blessed (and cursed) by bearing two sons. Jake is 14 going on 84. Tyler is 10 and is actually pretty cool when he’s not saying, “But, MOOOOOOM!”

I think all of you know I've been divorced, and the boys were the product of my first marriage. Most of you know they live with their dad almost 2 hours away in Des Moines. It’s a sore subject for me, because we were already divorced amicably, but I lost my job and had to move or live out of my car. I chose the former and was punished financially and emotionally by a year long court battle that I received absolutely NOTHING out of except heartache and debt. He got everything he wanted and more.

This weekend has been frustrating on many levels. It’s a 3 day weekend for the boys, so they are here until tomorrow. That’s been pretty nice not to feel so rushed. However, we have a lot to do since the next time I see them, we will drive across the country to South Carolina for Spring Break, and I can already imagine the arguing and fighting and complaining that I will hear in the car on the way there and back. We've never driven so far together in a car before. We've always rented a van, but this time the vacation is long, and the cost of the van is outrageous.

This weekend Ty has argued with me about wearing a heavier coat, eating snacks, watching TV, and has whined constantly about all the things he wants to be doing because he is bored. This is while looking at pictures of Hawaii from my parents’ recent vacation, and after having gone ice skating and to the play “Clue”. His favorite phrase this weekend is, “Mom? Oh wait. I was gonna ask you something but I just know you’ll say no. You never say yes.” Ugh.

Jake, on the other hand, has always been a complainer. He thinks everyone is stupid, especially his little brother, and everything sucks. He’s a grumpy old man trapped in a teenager’s body. Always has been. His life is just horrible according to him. He hates school. He hates summer. He hates reading. He hates his brother. He hates chores. He thinks homework is boring. 

I got a text from his dad tonight: “Check ur email & rip into Jake for his bullshit grade in math. I will be talking to him when he gets home. He won’t be doing anything but studies & homework until his grades r up.” So we got online and checked his grades. D in math. D in Social Studies. F in Technology. I ask him what Technology Class is and he can’t explain it to me. “It’s kinda difficult to explain (mumble, mumble). I hate technology.” He also says, “I hate computers.” Oh dear Lord. He is in TROUBLE. That’s all his future holds. Technology and computers. This is why he is an 84 year old man.

While we were on Infinite Campus (the site his school uses to post grades, late assignments, the calendar, etc.) we looked at his missing assignments. Some of them he didn't even know what they were. Some he said he never received. Yet he doesn't think about checking this website every day to see what is missing so he can follow up with his teachers (because he hates computers).  He had several assignments that were 8 days late. I wanted to strangle him.

During the text conversation with his dad, his dad said: “Gunna try his meds again. See if that helps. If it does, he’ll be on it for school.” This is a man who has worked at a pharmacy for 18 years. I had to argue and fight and scream for Jake to be put on medication the first time around, and I don’t understand why he was taken off. I said as much, and his reply was, “I took him off because he was doing such an awesome job in school & keeping his grades up to A’s & B’s. 1^st half of the school year at least.” My thought was WHAT SCHOOL YEAR? And Yes, genius idea to take him off of something that is helping. Because if he is talking about this school year, his first term grade point average was 2.7. That does not equal all A’s and B’s. But then again, we’re talking to someone who probably didn't have an A in anything except P.E. He also didn't complete college (he spelled it “collage” when talking about the boys’ college fund) and had to take the pharmacy tech exam more times than you can count on one hand to pass. I’m no PhD, I don’t have a Masters either, but I don’t write “ur” or “gunna” or “ya” even when texting. It makes me CRAZY. And nauseous thinking this man is in charge of the boys and their education.

Jake has to get all of his missing assignments completed if he wants to go to Jeff Dunham on Wednesday night (his birthday present) to see Walter the puppet (his identical twin - in thought at least.) I will be incredibly sad if I have to find someone else to go.

I have no idea if I frustrated my parents this much. I loved to read (still do) and enjoyed school, and did well without being reprimanded. My brother was another story though. I don’t think anything got through to him, and I worry it will be the same thing for Jake. Nothing will work. He might regret it when he’s older. He might not care if he’s happily ensconced in his dad’s basement, sucking down beer and playing video games at age 35. I don’t know. I’d like to say it’s not my problem, because according to the courts, it’s not. But he’s still my kid and I still want to do whatever I can, limited as my options are, to help him succeed and ultimately be happy in life, if that’s even a possibility for that 14 year old grumpy old man. 

My Mind is Like a Steel...Sieve

There's a running joke in my family. We call it "Cindy" disease, after my mom, who constantly misplaces items and forgets things. I've shown signs of it throughout my adulthood, but now it's getting serious. And frankly, scary. I'm only 39, for Christ's sake. Why do I feel like I'm elderly where my mind is concerned? 

I tend to write myself notes all the time. I even email myself when I am laying in bed at night and I remember that I need to do something, because I KNOW I will forget if I don't. I write notes on the bathroom mirror in transparency marker, so I see whatever it is I need to remember when I wake up and brush my teeth, because sometimes the email isn't in front of my face enough. I have to put reminders in my calendar to call my boys every other Friday when they aren't here, and to write this blog, and to send update emails monthly to one of my manufacturers. 

I need to find ONE place to write notes, because I find myself at my desk, my notebook in my purse or work bag somewhere else in the house, and I need to write something down. So I grab any piece of paper... And then promptly forget about it. Just yesterday I found a note that I was supposed to send a designer a sample. I had even emailed Eric to see if he could do it when I was in Kansas City last Friday, but he didn't get the message until late. I remembered when I got home that I needed to do it, and even went downstairs to look for the sample and found that I was out of that one. I promptly forgot all about it until I noticed a note buried in a legal pad yesterday while I was on a conference call. So this is now a full week after the sample request. And of course, THEN I remembered that I had more of that particular sample in the small "new collection" sample boxes we are to distribute, just not in my normal sample set. Why had I not thought of that the week before? And why, between my trip from the basement to look for it initially, and coming upstairs, did I completely forget about my task? 

This past Wednesday I went to Target to get a few items, ultimately ending up in the electronics section for a little gift for Eric, and since I was done shopping, I decided to check out there instead. I realized when I opened my purse, that my billfold was back home on my desk. Why was it there? Because I don't like to bring my whole purse to volleyball, and just take my billfold so I have my license and money in case I need it, and put it on my desk when I came home the night before instead of in my purse. At least I remembered where it was. It was better than the time I decided to let the dogs road trip to Target with me, and in getting them in the car, left my purse on top of the car and drove off. Luckily some Good Samaritan found it and put it in between my front doors. That was the LONGEST drive home ever. I've also gone all the way to Des Moines and only had my license in my purse, because I had gone on a bike ride, and put my license in a small wristlet wallet and proceeded to put only that in my purse, not my whole billfold. Luckily I still have a credit union in Des Moines that knows me and let me take out some cash because I needed gas. And lunch. And I was there for a hair appointment. 

I got up from my office chair the other day and made it the six feet to the doorway before I paused to try to figure out why the hell I'd just gotten up. I had to go back to my desk, and scroll through open browser windows before I figured out that I had gotten up to go to the kitchen to figure out whether the avocados on the counter were ripe enough to put in the fridge. This happens more that I'd like to admit.

I got a tax form in the mail 2 weeks ago. The last place I remember seeing it was on the dining room table. It's missing now. Along with an earring that I last saw in the kitchen, a scarf that I last saw in the coat closet and 1 each of 2 pair of fuzzy slipper socks that were last seen in my bedroom or laundry basket, so now I wear the 2 mismatched remainders together. I did, however, find the packing tape I've been looking for for 3 weeks, on the bookcase in the living room. Why? I have no idea. 

I give presentations for work and I can't think of the words I want to say. It's no longer a fluid presentation. There are many pauses while I think it through. And they are always simple words like "mold" or "pattern".  I'm given lists of discontinued items to pull from binders at the beginning of the year, and yet continually find old products in binders that I had already been through, because new product binder cards were in those binders. From several new launches. How did I miss pulling the old stuff on 3 separate occasions? And it's at multiple clients' so it's not just some intern pulling stuff out of a trash bin and replacing it. It's clearly me. Forgetting. 

Almost a decade ago, when I started a carpet rep job, I was told to go to Minneapolis to shadow the rep up there. I packed up my suitcase and ran an errand. I realized I had forgotten my shoes, so I went back home to get them. I got to the hotel in Minneapolis, opened my trunk, and THERE WAS NO SUITCASE! I had walked right past it in the hallway on my way to get my shoes, but it never registered. I drove all over looking for new clothes for the next day, along with some pajamas, make-up and hairbrush, ultimately just getting everything at Target. I was happy I had my shoes with me though, because at that time, it was really difficult to find size 11's. Since then, I am incredibly worried that I will do that again. I've stopped the car midway to a destination to pop the trunk and double check.

I was told by many people at my 20th class reunion this past summer that they had wonderful memories of playing flashlight tag at my house in junior high and high school. I don't remember most of them playing with me. I had one classmate tell me I rode around in the trunk of her car once. I don't have any recollection of that either. And I have no idea if I can trust the memories I DO have. Hell, I remember being good acquaintances with Eric in high school, but he says we really never talked except one time when we were developing pictures for yearbook. I didn't even remember he was in that class. 

People tell me their life stories. And they aren't just acquaintances. They are really good friends. But I forget. And I'm too embarrassed to ask again. I can't remember why one friend doesn't talk about her dad. Had he passed away? Did he take off when she was a kid? Was there ever a relationship between them? I have no idea. I can't remember. And most of my clients are designers. Some of them went to UNI, like I did. Some of them shared the same horrible professor I had, and we chat and we bond over our experiences with her. Then a year later they say something about UNI, and in my head I think, "She went to UNI?" 

It seems that more and more often, something happens that makes me question whether something is truly wrong with my brain. Sometimes it's small things like not remembering how to spell words that I have spelled a thousand times before. Other times it's big things like leaving my purse on top of my car. It's bright red. How did I miss it from letting the dogs in the back seat to turning around and me getting in the front? Regardless, it's happening much more frequently than before. 

Today will be spent making list after list, and checking them again and again, because I am going to Minneapolis tomorrow with a friend. And if I forget my IKEA gift card at home, like I did the last time I went, I will be mad. If I forget the IKEA bags to take home all my goodies, and have to buy new ones, I will be mad. If I forget my pajamas or toothbrush or fresh socks or heaven forbid my purse or cell phone, I will be mad. And not just mad in the general sense, but mad at myself for forgetting something so simple, especially when I had a note, SOMEWHERE reminding myself to pack that item. 

None of my immediate family has ever had Alzheimer's. But my worry is growing nonetheless. I am just glad I have a reminder in my calendar to write this blog, so I have something down on "paper" of my life, for when I am sure to forget it all. 

Events That Shape Us

I do a lot of driving for my job as a sales rep. I cover the whole state of Iowa. In less than 2 years, I have managed to put 60,000 miles on my car.

I discovered audio books on my first solo vacation after the split with my ex-husband when I drove from Des Moines to Pittsburgh. “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” kept me more awake than the upbeat CD’s I’d made myself.  Don’t make fun. I wanted something lighthearted and fun, and got it. I even listened to it again on the way home since I hadn’t thought I would get through the whole thing on the way there.

I’ve now discovered, thanks to my great friend, Ninya, the Overdrive app. I can now listen to books without switching CD’s by just downloading digital copies of audio books from the Cedar Falls Public Library right to my iPad. This way I can continue listening in my home as well, instead of sitting out in my car to see what happens next.

I've been listening to “Girls in White Dresses” by Jennifer Close. It’s a story of a few friends who, while dealing with their own heartbreak, career choices, and family pressures, have to attend endless rounds of weddings and bridal showers. At one wedding, one of the main characters’ boyfriends tells her his friend is dating someone who could be JonBenét all grown up. Her last name is never used, but anyone who lived through that gruesome event just KNOWS who the author is talking about. Over and over, the name JonBenét is used, as the character can't even remember this girl's real name. It got me thinking about all the things that happen during our lifetime, and how just one word or image can trigger certain memories.

So here are some words or phrases that are memory triggers from events during my lifetime. For some of these, you only need one word, and your mind fills in the rest. You think about where you were when you heard. You think about how old you were and how times have changed, or haven't changed. Some of these are heart wrenching tragedies and others are odd news stories that spread across the world or even scientific accomplishments. If you are close to 40 and older, you should know what every single one of these means. 

Challenger

“If the gloves don’t fit, you must acquit!”

9/11 (even when this score innocently comes up in volleyball)

Chernobyl

Berlin Wall

Exxon Valdez

Cold War

Waco

Lorena Bobbitt

Mad Cow

Unabomber

Princess Diana

Y2K

Columbine

John Hinckley Jr.

NASA Rover

Katrina

Virginia Tech

I’m sure this list is missing MANY events and that there are events closer to home that shape us even more, like the death of a loved one, or meeting that special someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, birth of a child, injury from serving our country, etc. The above named events are somewhat universal. Even if they only happened in America, the story spread further. It was odd to me when I mentioned the Exxon Valdez to my oldest child (thought I don't quite remember why), and he had no idea what I was talking about. I’m used to people knowing. But he hasn't learned it in school yet, and it didn't happen in his lifetime.

What are some events that impacted your life?