A Day I Will Never Forget
It is no secret. I am in my forty’s. I’ve lived in the south all of my life, so maybe I have lived a little more sheltered life than some. I grew up helping my family with their business. It was just a small service station and garage. Because of those years spent helping out, I think that I tend to have a different perspective on growing up southern than many of my former classmates. Some days were more memorable than others. 
First and foremost to me was the fact that I actually had to help out. I had to help stock shelves, work the register, and even pump gas. Yes, I pumped gas. The service station was a full service gas station, so if I was the only one available, I was expected to pitch in and pump gas. The looks on some of these big burly southern men’s faces when a little young girl walked out and pumped their gas was definitely worth it.
I pumped more gallons of gas than I ever care to admit to pumping. Throughout all of that time, I only had one “accident” to happen. I was actually pumping gas for the man that owned the company we bought our gas from. He had a “new” vehicle and I discovered very quickly that it had a setup that did not allow you to pump gas into it very quickly. Pumping quickly was a requirement for a full service gas station. There were always other things that needed to be done, so you had to complete each task quickly.
When his car proceeded to spit up gas all over me, I decided that I did not like his new vehicle. The gasoline quickly went all over my clothing, hair, and face. As a young girl, I reacted much like you would expect me to, I screamed. I continued to scream even when I was lifted up and jostled as someone ran with me. I had my eyes squeezed shut and did not dare to open them. I had tried that already. It hurt too much.
As the cool water from the outside faucet was splashed onto my face, I was forced to quit screaming. Water mixed with gasoline does not taste good! Yes, they were telling me to stop screaming and close my mouth. They even told me to hold my breath. I didn’t listen. I just wanted the burning to stop and could not concentrate enough to stop screaming. The water in the mouth did the trick though.
Slowly, I was able to let their words gradually reach my brain. I heard them tell me to open my eyes. I vaguely remember starting to scream no at the top of my lungs. As I was turned upside down with my face put directly under the flow of water, I had no choice but to close my mouth and listen. Slowly it sunk in that they were telling me to open my eyes so that they could flush the gasoline out of them.
Eventually, I did quit screaming. My eyes did return to normal without pain in a few days. I was even back to pumping gas. My lesson was learned though. From that day forward, I stood to the side as I was pumping gas. I also started taking my time. I pumped a little more slowly. So someone had to wait a few minutes. They would have to wait even longer if I got gasoline in my eyes again!
Getting Help from Others
All it takes is the mention of cleaning and everyone leaves my house faster than designer bridal gowns would sell for $20. It does not matter if you are even willing to pay them. They will be out the door before you have the sentence out of your mouth. Most of the time that is, but I have a plan. Yes, I do know it is illegal in most states to lock kids into the home. Don’t call the authorities, it isn’t that drastic of a plan.
I’m giving them an option. They have the choice. They can either clean their rooms or I’ll clean them for them. If they clean them, then things get organized according to how they prefer. There are a few rules.
Everything must have a place. All the furniture and even the walls and ceiling must be dusted. The ceiling fan or light fixture must be cleaned. Books must be in the bookcases unless they are in use. The beds must be cleaned out from under and all bedclothing must be cleaned. Curtains have to be taken down, cleaned and put back up. Floors must be swept and mopped. What, you think I have too many rules? They will agree. The alternative is that I go in.
Oh, you think that will be what they choose? I doubt it. When I go in, all video games will be placed in storage. All guitars will be shelved. Computers will be subject to being stored temporarily. Hey, I have to find the time to clean them all and get them spiffy to be added back to their nice clean room, don’t I? So what if it takes me a couple of months? They can do without their own computers for that long. Without the video games, they may even decide to help me clean the missing items to get them back sooner.
Okay, so I’m joking. I’m not really going to pull the plug on their use of electronic equipment. I would never get anything done for having to run out of the house to get away from the sound of screaming teenagers if I did. What I am doing is putting a time limit on their free time. They will be allowed a total of an hour of all combined electronic equipment, including but not limited to cell phone, video game, computer, television, and guitar. Once that hour is used up, they will have to earn the priviledge of additional time.
Hey, it is all about motivation. I have to find the motivation to do my part of the cleaning. If they are to do their part, then they have to be motivated. Fortunately, I know two secrets. One, they are addicted to their electronic equipment. Two, they hate for mom to come into the room with them, especially when they are instant messaging, text messaging on the phone, or worse having a telephone conversation.
Since the challenge is mine, sure I will do the work! I just get to pick my time to do it. My time to clean my son’s room is about now. He just got on the phone with his girl friend. That could prove to be a very short conversation or a very productive one, depending on how he reacts to his mom coming into the room and cleaning while he talks. Shall we find out?
Find what motivates others and you too shall find a way of recruiting needed help.
The Challenge Begins
Have you ever met someone that loved to clean house? I have too. Unfortunately for my family, I’m not one of them. Over the years, there have been many areas where my shortcomings have come to the light of day. One major area of need for improvement is in my housekeeping activities.
My house is overwhelmed with clutter. There is no surface that is safe. Not even the living room chairs are safe from being piled so full of stuff that you can not sit down without moving things. There are worse, I’m sure. They are just few and far between. Eventually, enough is enough.
That is where I find myself now. I have tried to do it on my own. I have even tried to recruit my boys into helping me. I dare not even think of asking my dear sweet husband. His method of cleaning it would be to back a dump truck to the back door and start throwing. Hmmm… Don’t think so. Yes, I have too much stuff, but I may need some of it at least.
So before my husband decides to take it on his own and use his vacation time to clear away the clutter, I am putting on my working clothes and issuing myself a challenge. A clean house in 30 days is my goal. You get to come along with me for the roller coaster ride.
The first thing I need is a plan. My plan is to get the house so clean and so organized that I can clean it in 30 minutes per day. Yes, you heard me right. 30 minutes is the time limit that I am selecting to attempt. Will I succeed? Who knows? I got to meet the 30 day challenge first. In order to meet that, I have to set myself smaller goals that I can see some measure of success to keep my motivation up.
This is a major undertaking for me. I do not allow anyone in my house. It is too messy. It is small and is currently holding enough stuff for at least three homes this size. With a square footage of 1280, you know that there can’t be much room for walking with that much extra clutter around. It has three bedrooms, two baths, living room, kitchen, and laundry room. When I try to take a look around to come up with a plan, I get too overwhelmed to even think about a plan.
As I tackle each room, I will post my plan of attack, my schedule, and my accomplishments as well as my failures. I am morbidly obese so don’t expect miracles. I have to take it slowly and build up as I go. If I see that I can not meet the thirty day challenge on my own, I may assign additional chores to my boys. They have fallen into my bad habits so they need a wake up call too. They are supposed to keep their rooms clean and do their bathroom. They don’t always do what they are told. They are teenagers after all. My ultimate goal would be to get their rooms clean and for them keep it up, but honestly, they should do that for themselves, right? Yeah, I’m dreaming big today!
So, don’t expect before and after pictures. Just expect honest truth and ideas of how to get a clean house in 30 days and how to keep it clean in 30 minutes a day. Are you ready to join me in a challenge?
Welcome to Clean House in 30!
Cleaning house is a chore that I rank right up there with having major surgery. I avoid both whenever possible. Eventually, it becomes necessary to grow up and clean house. Whether you have avoided it for way too long like I have or simply have a very busy life that leaves very little time to cleaning, Clean House in 30 is the site you have been waiting to come to your rescue.
Back to School Memories
NOTE: This was originally published on my former blog.
Dear Jay,
My youngest started high school this week. Yes, I’m getting old, but my memories today are from when I was much younger. Way back when I had my own first days of school.
As I drove him to school and having to run my air conditioner, I remembered all those mornings when I would have to rush out to wait on the bus. We had a long drive way so waiting at the door until we saw the bus was not an option. We had a great bus driver but even I knew better than to expect her to wait on me just so I could stay warm or dry.
Every morning we would wait very impatiently at the end of our drive way. If no cars were coming, we sometimes would run circles around the mail box. For the life of me, I can’t recall why. Boredom, I suppose. Those times were rare though. We lived on a major highway so there was usually always traffic.
“Big trucks” or “eighteen wheelers” as we called them would rush past us hauling coal. Sometimes chunks would fall off and a few even hit us from time to time. We didn’t mind that as much as we did the wind from them. We had to listen to our mom complain about how difficult our hair was to fix in the first place. We hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t look out and see how we looked after the first five or six trucks blew past us. On picture day, we knew to stand as far back as we could. That one day, hearing the bus drivers wrath was much easier to deal with than our mom complaining because our hair was so messed up for our pictures.
As fall turned into winter, the thermostat would dip low. Waiting on the bus was definitely not fun. We would run in place just to try to keep warm. On those days, as soon as we heard a truck, we would take off running backwards. If we ever had a truck coming when the bus was coming, the mere thought of the wind would make us shiver long before we felt the “breeze” that could blast through the heaviest of coats.
Waiting on the bus was filled with a lot of fun as well as a few challenges. We made it through and I know that my son could too. I may be cheating him out of some fond memories of waiting on the bus like I had, but I so enjoy the new memories I’m making. The drive to school is often filled with my asking a question, then repeating it when he realizes I’m talking and takes out the earphones, but it also has some special moments. You know those that happen so seldom that you almost forget that they exist. Those few moments when you know that your child truly knows how much you care about him. Those moments are worth his not getting to experience the memories of waiting on the bus. Hopefully, these memories will one day mean something to him.
Dear Jay, The Beginning
NOTE: This was originally published on my former blog.
Dear Jay,
Today, you have been on my mind. I went back and looked at the reply you had sent me last. Immediately all sorts of thoughts came pouring to my mind about my days growing up in the south. I know you must have had some that were very similiar but yet so very different.
Today, I want to share with you a little about summers. Summers in Alabama way back when were a lot like they are now. The heat was horrible and youngsters everywhere were doing all that they could to beat the heat.
If you were lucky, you had a pool, creek, or even a pond near enough to visit. Of course that would also depend on whether your parents were over protective enough to keep you from going on your own or not. Of course mine was one of the over protective types, so my water visits were kept to a minimum. I heard stories of those that would go to the lake or river and enjoy a day swimming with friends. Some even went to town to the pool. We got to go for a few weeks each year to take swimming lessons. I guess it never seemed to sink in to my mother that lessons were great but they also required practice from time to time.
In all fairness, we did get a bit of practice. Once a month during the summer, we would pack up the travel trailer and head for the campground. If it was a weekend trip, which most of them were, we would go to a nearby park. Luckily, it was on the lake and they had a pool. Then there was that one glorious week that we left the state. We usually went to the mountains of North Carolina. Swimming time was kept to a minimum by visits to amusement parks and sight seeing trips.
Each weekend camping trip included packing up our bikes. You know, those two wheeled things that were human powered that officially are called bicycles. We would take those along on to get around the park. There must have been something magical about that park. Our normally overprotective parents actually let us out of their sight. They would sit in the shade of the camp while we rode around the campground. Sometimes we even got to play putt-putt golf. Doesn’t that just sound like such a thrilling weekend?
Actually, it was quite fun. We never worried about sunscreen or bugs, we just enjoyed ourselves. We took radios and sometimes even a small television. We got the same three channels camping as we did at home. So what if the television was only about a fourth of the size and was in black and white instead of color. We were here to get away and have fun anyway.
Now, when I look back on those days, I remember all the fun we had with family and friends. Rarely do we manage to get together and have that much fun today. Too bad that with all the changes going on in the world, that we have lost so much fun. It seems a pity that someone could not find a way to preserve the ability to have quality fun with people that really matter in ways that do not cost a fortune or require a major amusement factor. Today as our kids grab their cell phones and ipods as they run out the door for just a drive to town, I have to mourn the loss of all the fun we had on our trips of days gone by.
Dreaming of a Lazy Saturday
NOTE: This was originally published on my former blog.
Life is so busy that I am craving a lazy Saturday spent just having fun. You know the kind where you do not have a list of chores to be done or errands to run. The entire day is spent just following the moment. You do not have to worry about having the kids at a birthday party or shopping for supplies for another school project. You get to think of what you would like to do and then just do it.
I remember spending days driving around the countryside, going swimming, or just playing cards with friends. Some days were spent visiting a park just to let the kids play while I sit back and enjoy watching them get so tired that they will be ready for an early bedtime. If a pretty flower is spotted, then time was available to stop and actually breathe in the fragrance.
Life is busy and finding the time to spend that lazy day is difficult. Instead of rushing around constantly, today I have decided to try to make that dream a reality. I have tons of things that I should do and that I need to do. For just today, I’m going to take the time to smell that flower. I’m going to savour the flavor of the food I eat. I’m going to listen to the music and actually let it float through my mind as the feelings flow the stress from my muscles. I’m going to take a nap when I feel tired. I’ll clean when I have the energy. I’ll cook when I’m hungry.
For just today, I’m going to live in the moment. The dreams of a lazy Saturday will stay in the forefront of my thoughts as I go about my day. Instead of just dreaming about a lazy Saturday and wishing I could return to the days of my past, I will do what I can to incorporate the fun of those days gone by into the reality of the fast pace of today.
Extended Families Living Together
NOTE: This was originally published on my former blog.
When my children were little, I dreamed of having a large house. It was actually four houses in one. They were all connected and formed a square around a central patio area. Each house had a kitchen, living room, and several bedrooms. There was a hallway with doors connecting the houses together. You could technically walk in the front door, down a hallway through all four houses to come back to where you started. Yes, this was only a dream, but it was the house that I wanted. With a house like that, my children could all live near me but still have their own home too.
The house never became my reality. True, there are still several years to go in my life, but after the past few months, I’m not sure that just a connecting door would be enough of a cushion between the houses. I’m no longer sure that I would want to live that close to all of my children. With them living that close, it would be too easy to run to Mom.
Currently, my daughter and her three children have moved back home. Add to that my two boys that are still in school, and you have one full house. There is never a dull moment in this house! I’m glad that they felt that this was a safe place for them to turn to during their time of need, but there are times that I’m unsure of whether I am helping or hurting them by allowing them to remain. Things are definitely very different from before.
I had been used to being able to get up in the middle of my writing to take care of something without any worries of losing my work. The worst thing that could happen was for my power to blink off since my battery backup died and I have yet to replace it. After the addition to our household members, if I have to walk away from my computer while in the midst of writing an article or even an email, I may come back to find my computer has been overtaken by my daughter or my grandchildren. The work I had poured my heart into may be gone forever.
I was used to having a pile of laundry waiting on me most days. Now it is a mountain that never seems to go down any at all. We used to do 2-3 loads per day, now at least 4 or 5 need to be done daily. We went from four people to eight living in one household. It seems like almost everything doubled. How on earth, three small children can eat and mess as much as these do is beyond my capability to understand.
When the days are stressed with trying to find time and energy, not to mention money to meet all of the needs of a household that doubled in size overnight, I find myself wanting to run away and hide. At times I curl up in bed and try to force the worries of how to make it through another day out of my mind by the numbness of sleep. At other times, I know that things are better today than they were yesterday. Well, at least on most days they are.
Then after a good night’s sleep, I wake up to the pitter patter of little feet and a knock at my door. A whispered “Grandma” can wake me up faster than a weather siren would if it was placed right outside my bedroom window. I know that with three little words my day can begin in the best way possible. All I have to do is say, “Come here baby” and I will be blessed with the best hugs and kisses in the world. When the day starts off like that, it is indeed a special day.
Unfortunately, that warmth and love is quickly over as the time comes to get everyone else up and ready for school or work. As we are all rushing to get into the shower and dressed in time to hit the road in our different directions, the day begins to be more stressful and the blessed feeling of the morning begins to fade. As the day wears on and more and more things have to be dealt with, the body becomes weary and craving the comfort of the quiet night.
Extended families living together in one home makes for a lot of issues that can complicate life. Bodies seem to require more than we feel we have to give. A good night of sleep does a lot to renew the body, but the spirit needs that early morning sound of little feet running down the hall. With each closer step, my heart begins to flutter with the anticipation of hearing “Grandma” moments before feeling the glory of a child’s love. With love, understanding, and a lot of hard work, extended families can make a home filled with the blessings that every child needs.
Wandering Thoughts on Life
I have often said that real life keeps getting in the way of what we want to do. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason, so even these real life interruptions are necessary. Even though logically, I can see that they are bound to happen and even though my brain tells me that I should get used to them, my heart never seems to understand. Lately, they seem to be happening more and more often. Common sense tells me that maybe I should take the hint and realize that means that I’m trying to hard to make the wrong things happen.
Do we really have an option of making things happen? In all honesty, I’m not smart enough to know the answer to that question. I simply know that the harder I try to make somethings happen, the harder they are to reach. The more I try to fit into someone else’s image of who I should be, the worse things are.
You may think an old grandma wouldn’t care what others think or worry about trying to make dreams come true. Unfortunately, this old grandma does. It has not got me to where I want to be. It has not made me happy. Still, I keep on trying. I keep trying to be a better person.
Instead of taking the time to realize that I’m alright just the way I am, I keep striving to be more. In doing so, I often lose sight of what it is that I truly want to do. Maybe it is just that I want to do so much, that I keep going in so many different directions at once that I can not become successful at any of them.
A good friend recently sent me an email that stated that to truly become a master at something, that you must put in 10,000 hours at it. Well, I’m much too old to try to become a master at anything. I’ve always been what I call a Jill of all trades and master of none. I tend to change directions way too often to reach the 10,000 hours in anything. Or so I thought.
I took the time to think back on what I have done over the past 44 years. Since the time I was 10, I have taken care of kids. I have worked at helping others, especially kids, try to reach their potential. I am always there with a quick “You can do it” attitude towards other’s goals, hopes, and dreams. Seeing the joy in a child’s face when they try something new or finally accomplish that skill that has been eluding them, brings a warmth over me that makes me feel like a piece of chocolate dropped in the parking lot on an Alabama July day.
I may never have the house that I dream of with a desk sitting in the window of an office that overlooks the mountain stream or a classroom of my own, but I will always have the knowledge that I am a master of helping others. I am a queen of inspiring others to keep trying. I will be the grandma with the warm hugs and the “I told you so” that comes with each accomplished goal. I will be the teacher that goes the extra mile to help her students. I will be the friend that always believes in others.
I may not wear the latest fashion in clothing or drive the popular car. I won’t live in the right neighborhood. I won’t be a popular person. I will not even be a role model. I will simply be me. I will live where my family can live with me. I will enjoy my hectic lifestyle as I wake up to an overcrowded house full of people. I will love those that are strong enough to stand beside me without trying to hold me back.
My husband, my children, and my grandchildren are not the only part of my life, but they are the part that keeps me being me. They provide the real life situations that get in my way when I start dreaming too big. They share the love that is necessary to get past all the road blocks and live life to it’s fullest. I’m not a bad person.
I’m a little short on self confidence and my physical appearance would require a novel to explain all the needed updates. They are strong enough to look past all of that to the goodness in my heart and the strength in my desire to help others. My thoughts on life today prove one thing. I am truly a very lucky woman.
Wanting to Lose Weight Fears
Wedding bells or other special events seem to increase the desire to lose weight in many people. As a morbidly obese person, just day to day life makes me want to lose weight. Instead of losing, I just keep on going as I have for the past few years. I’m not losing and unfortunately may even still be gaining slowly.
Even though I do not have a special event to try to lose weight for, I know that my health requires that I find a way to lose weight. I don’t consider myself a “sickly” person, but I’m not a stupid person either. I know that my weight does cause issues that I would not have to deal with if I did lose weight.
You would think that would be enough to inspire me to lose weight. Before you can understand why I stay so heavy, you need to know the fear that I live with on a daily basis. This is a fear that is so overwhelming that I think it would be harder to deal with if I lost weight and regained it than it is to simply stay fat.
Speaking as someone that has not always been heavy, I feel like I have failed myself for allowing myself to get so big. I didn’t set out to gain so much weight, nor do I want to remain this size for the rest of my life. I can still remember how good it felt to wear regular size clothes. Whether I ever get back down to that size is for the future to determine. What really is sticking out in my mind the most is the feeling that I did it once, why can’t I do it again? Every single day that I do not lose, I feel like I have failed myself.
Honestly, my smallest days did not include my wedding day. I was at my smallest when my husband and I started dating. I often feel that maybe he regrets marrying me since I have gained so much weight. Of course, he is too much of a gentleman to ever admit to it. Plus, he has to love me to even put up with me. As you probably guess from my writings, I can be very opinionated.
I fear that anyone that struggleds to lose weight to get down to their smallest for a special event may be setting theirselves up for feeling the same sense of failure that I have dealt with. It is not a path that I would wish my worst enemy to take, much less a new bride. Can their special day truly be the happy event that they want if they are to scared to eat the food and drink being served without splitting their special outfit?
I’m going to admit it, I would LOVE to lose weight. Fear is stopping me from even trying though. Fear of reaching my goal only to regain the weight and facing this overwhelming feeling again. If I simply look at my weight from yesterday or even last year, then I’m not so much of a failure. If I go back to the memories of the time my husband and I were dating, then I am one of the biggest failures around. That is the overwhelming feeling that I fear. That is what is keeping me from losing weight.
Although, I do not have the answers I need in order to find my way around this fear, I do know that I need to find my own path to losing weight and banishing my fears. I’ve always said that I felt that diet should be considered one of the worst four letter words any person could possibly say. It causes so much pain and heartache. It allows us to set ourselves up for failure. Fear of failure causes me to not try to lose weight.
I do have an idea. Instead of trying to lose weight, I think that I should just concentrate on creating an atmosphere of healthy eating. I need to make small changes without worrying about a weight loss goal or even that dreaded four letter word. I do not want to try to face my fears, but I want to find a way around them. My weight should not be the deciding factor as to my happiness. When I obsess about my weight, then I allow it to have too much influence on my life.
As a southern gal, I love good food. That is not something that I am willing to give up. I still want butter in my cooking. I got to have my dumplings and cornbread. I refuse to give up my biscuit and gravy. I may not eat as much of them each time or I may not eat them as often, but I will allow myself the foods that I know will make me give up a too strict diet.
Instead of giving up anything, I’m going to add to what I eat. I’m going to add more healthy foods so that I will be less tempted to eat too much of my favorites. I am going to strive to overcome my fear by making positive changes in my diet. I’m going to work towards changing that four letter word that I fear into what it truly is, just a word that means what we eat. I’m taking restriction out of the picture. I’m taking the control back and sending the fears packing.