Who's Your Daddy?

I just read an email from Juliet. She said I sounded interesting. She said she came across a picture of me and liked it so much, she downloaded it. She said I seemed like a man she would like to get to know. 

 Kelli can be a man's name...and also a dogs. When I was young, there was a dog in the neighborhood named Kelly. As cute as it was, no girl likes to share her name with a dog. In elementary school there was a boy in my grade named Kelly. (horror)  But he spelled it with a "Y"...as in boY. 

My mom told me she spelled my named with an "i" because it was the feminine version. One time, on a middle school field trip, they were dividing the girls into their cabins. My name was never called. What seemed like hours later, they realized they had put me in the boys cabin. Yep, that's every middle schools girls dream...to be mistaken for a boy. So much for Kelli with an "i". I started to wear more pink. Pretty sure there was a training bra in there somewhere. Maybe that's where my obsession with heels started.

But, I digress...

Juliet, Juliet, Juliet! Wonder what manly man traits you find so attractive and  "interesting" in me? I do have that one annoying, but very manly chin hair. I don't think I have a mustache...better start waxing just in case. I wouldn't be able to change your flat tire or fix things around the house. I don't make enough money to keep you in a fashion you would find "interesting". I COULD cook you a delicious steak. hm..maybe we would have some things in common,  This could open new doors! Closet doors! Maybe I will ask for your picture....and of course your shoe size:)

Juliet wants to know if we could meet sometime. She doesn't want me to make her wait and "suffer". I'm just the kind of man she  has been waiting for. 

Ever since I shopped for heath insurance on line, I have been getting a lot of spam-o-licous E-mail. Do I need a car loan? Would I like any higher education? Would I like my penis enhanced? (Maybe Juliet got wind of this.........) 

Juliet, I'm not the man you think I am. I am Kelli~ with an "i'. 

But, you can call me Butch. 

The Ties That Bind

A visit to the hospital last night prompts me to write about friends. Girlfriends.  I have always loved the sound of that word.

This particular friend was in the hospital because her female organs decided to take a break. They all decided to lay down. They had helped with the birth of five children, and they were tired! She is all patched up now and she said she is thankful she could keep all her parts:) I know how she feels.

She said a very interesting thing last night. She had been reading about how our organs have a "memory".  She wanted to keep her uterus, it remembered her children. I have thought about that for the last several hours. Maybe that is why when a doctor once told me he would just "take the uterus, because I didn't need it anymore" gave me such a heart pain. Take my uterus? .....I didn't need it? ...but, it remembered my children.

I have know this group of women going on three decades. Durning my friends hospital stay, I learned about the death of my other friends mother. Three decades allows plenty of time to see each other through childbirth, divorces, the death of a spouse and parents, remarriages and the ups and downs of our lives. The good, bad and the oh so ugly.

Some say friendship is an art. I guess that means it could be up for interpretation. It's definitely valuable, a treasure and an investment. We have made deposits and withdraws into and from each others lives for many years. The dividends are sweet.

"My friends are my estate"~ Emily Dickinson

These are the ties that bind. We are coming full circle.

Talking Pants

My yoga pants have been complaining. They say the only thing I do in them is clean. We vacuum together, do the dishes, scrub the bathtub and wash the windows. I remind them that occasionally (very occasionally) I take them for a ride on the elliptical. But, they are not impressed.  They feel that they are being undervalued, under  appreciated and that they have not been allowed to live up to their full potential.

They want to see the inside of a yoga studio. They want to do something called the Downward Dog. Or is it the Upward Dog?  I say "Why don't we just GET a dog, and I'll wear you while I walk it"~I think they growl at me......

So, I do a little research. Blacksburg is full of Yoga studios. It seems like everyone and their dog is taking yoga:) I feel like I would actually be pretty good at some of the positions! Like the Corpse Pose. I believe I do this extremely well every night...right after work. I lay on my bed fully dressed and assume the Corse Pose. Sometimes I stay in this position into the wee hours of the night. When I wake up in the morning I'm grateful it is just a yoga pose and not the real thing.

Some of these pose's just should not be done in public. Like the Happy Baby Pose. No way I'm doing that pose unless the class is called "Yoga By Candle Light" ...and I take it while on vacation...in another state. No one I know is snapping THAT picture and tagging me in it:)

They say the goal of Yoga is improving health. I need that. I also read that it aides in physical, mental and spiritual discipline. I need all that too... But, what I really need to do right now is mop my kitchen floor..because it makes sounds when I walk on it. It's probably trying to tell me something.

Now, where are my Yoga pants?

Mother's Day~The Mom Diaires

Mother's Day~The Mom Diaries:  She's beautiful, the kind that starts from inside and wiggles out into a  sparkle. She's come to the age where she pretty much just asks for what she wants. A good week before Mother's Day she asks:  "Kelli, have you picked out my mushy Mother's Day card?" ...Yes, mom, Mush..with a little sap poured on, not to mention the sprinkles. This woman LOVES cards, and she sends lovely ones, beautifully written and worded. She says correspondence is her hobby~send stamps:)

She cramped my teenage style: No fashionable hoop earrings for me!  Why? They made you look like a Gypsy! No dating boys with motorcycles,who wore leather or had tattoos. Women should never drink martini's. They got you drunk..and then, well who knows what could happen! I couldn't work at the local A&W. Those girls wore short shorts and rolled out on skates to car windows to take hamburger orders from animals!

Yep...those girls probably wore hoop earrings, had boyfriends with motorcycles and drank martini's. Dirty ones.

She taught me manners. And, to my embarrassment, she taught them to my friends too. If she walked in the room where boys were sitting....they weren't sitting for long. You stood when a woman walked into the room. But, many of them, later in life, told me how much they appreciated the things she taught them. I did not have the cool mom who acted like one of us. It was not cool at the time, but I forgive her:)

And, honestly, I could comfortably eat with the Queen of England. Her table manners have nothing on mine. Why? Because my mom taught me...and it gave me confidence. Would I prefer to eat with my fingers? Yes, but thats another story.

It's Mother's Day and I'm feeling very blessed. I'm her favorite..and I think she made the right choice.
he.he.he:)





It's Mother's Day and I'm feeling very blessed.

Strong In The Broken Places

"The world breaks everyone and afterward makes you strong at the broken places"~Ernest Hemingway.

Tonight is Aidan's Kindergarden orientation. So here we go. It will be the world of special ed. This morning I am forcing myself to read about Polymicrogyria and IEP's and  special education laws. It's all hugely depressing to me. But I have to know what the heck I'm talking about. I have to help Aidan get what he needs.  It's my broken place.

When I am home with Aidan..it all seems sort-of normal to me. His non-verbal communication, and having to wipe his mouth 100 times a day. It's when I get out in public that his issues become painfully obvious to me. Children might say "why is he drooling"..or "why is his shirt wet"..mom's notice that he isn't talking and the question comes: "How old is he?" I say five.  It sinks in...five, and not talking.

When he was two, three and even four..mom's said things like "he will talk when he is ready"..it's a nice encouraging thing to say. But, at five, knowing mothers know. And they carefully and kindly ask: "What's the diagnosis?~and that's when a young mom and this grandmother link eyes and hearts. Because it is every parent/grandparents nightmare...a diagnosis. It's my broken place.

I'm interested in all the talk about the recent Amendment in North Carolina, but then again not really. State by state, let them decide.  If we all agreed we would live in some kind of Utopia. I want to live in a Utopia where children can talk..and see and hear and walk. I don't care who anyone marries or who they sleep with, I have a grandson that doesn't talk. But, that is just my own selfish world.

Ugh, yesterday I lost electricity, but today is my dark day. Yesterday I lost power, today I feel like all the power is sucked out of me.

I read this quote this morning:
[We] see the face of God within the disabled. Their presence is a sign of God, who has chosen [quoting St. Paul] 'the foolish in order to confound the strong, the proud and the so-called wise of our world.' And so those we see as weak or marginalized are, in fact, the most worthy and powerful among us: they bring us closer to God." -- Jean Vanier, 


I definitely need a power source today. Hm...maybe Aidan and I need to go get a yogurt to celebrate his Kindergarden orientation....someone needs some sprinkles. 

To Elliptical or Not to Elliptical...

I woke up this morning to no electricity. It sort-of throws me off. My day has changed. Not only can I not make coffee..I find I have a lot of extra time on my hands.

I can't vacuum or throw in a load of laundry or do the dishes that magically appear in the sink durning the night. I like the quietness of my house. No news on, or radio~ just the sound of Aidan playing with his cars at the kitchen table. I do not like the silent treatment my Kuerig is giving me, but, I don't take it personally. I even think about the things I can't do but probably wouldn't do even if I had electricity..like iron.

 It looks  like we are having cereal for breakfast, or maybe cheese and crackers..hm, even the Ben and Jerry's is looking like a very practical option. No electricity required for THAT! Hey, I will even eat it straight from the carton as to not dirty up a bowl.

Spoonful after spoonful and all this extra time on my hands..it occurs to me that I COULD get on my elliptical. Just a fleeting thought, that I try to ignore. Heck, I have been ignoring the whole room it occupies for weeks! I just walk by thinking hm..wonder what's in THAT room. But, it's hard to miss. It sits in the middle of the room like a piece of featured art. Any decorator would have to say I was using it as my "focal point." The only thing it's missing is a spot light shinning down.

It's been so long that I'm a bit embarrassed about it. I find myself thinking about donning a pair of dark  glasses and a big floppy hat and going incognito~ wondering if I could fool my favorite inanimate object. But, then I imagine it saying "My you seem very familiar...and yet, maybe not. You are much heavier, you obviously couldn't possibly own an elliptical. And, to tell you the truth, you look like the kind of person who would eat Ben and Jerry's  for breakfast......"

So, what do I do? Get in the car and go to my favorite coffee shop.  I wave to the power company people and I think I  smile...a no coffee smile. I think one side turns up. I give them the PLEEASE hurry expression...like my life depends on them getting their job done. I think they feel my pain. Or maybe they just don't like working in the rain.

Ah..my first cup of coffee...and it's 2pm. Life is good.

Allowance Cop

It is PAINFUL writing this check for my traffic violation. But, that's the point, it's a fine for my disobedience~a civil penalty. And, it's hitting me where it hurts...my spending money. Ouch.

The lesson is learned. I am being very careful now. No more rolling through stop signs. I am making sure  I can legally turn on the red and when I see a police officer I point to my seatbelt and give him the thumbs up! I am Mrs. Barney Fife. "The LAW is the LAW!" :)

This is much more effective than if the police officer just gave me a "time-out". "Ma'am, please pull over to the curb and think about what you have done." Like  having to stand in a corner with a dunce hat on. Maybe they could put a bright orange traffic cone atop the car to add to the punishment by public humiliation...people slowly driving by to see who the poor soul was. (another reason to tint the windows: Black car, black windows = shady behavior)

But, no..I get enough thinking time while the officer is in the car behind me writing the ticket. How much is it going to be? Will he decide to give me a break? Wonder how his marriage is..did he just have a fight with his wife?..oh, I'm road kill.... And after the fact, they always tell me to have a nice day. And, I always say thank-you, which makes for a very civilized spanking.

Never wanting a lesson to be lost, it occurs to me that this type lesson may be valuable with an allowance. If Aidan knew he could get $5.00 a week, but ends up with 96 cents due to incurring fines for jobs not done...hmm I think I'm on to something.

Isn't it great how one generation can pass on valuable life lessons to the next? Just call me the Allowance Cop.....and have a nice day.

Another Nest.

I have another little bird, but he lives in another nest. He was a gift from one mother's heart to the other. The one act, healing an emptiness in each. A plan so lovingly designed by the Lord that I stand back in awe, or fall on my knees in worship. Beauty for ashes. Out of chaos, a purpose.

I send this little one  heart whispers. I picture them traveling through the night sky, slipping through his window, spreading across his little chest and dropping into his heart. A love beat. Things I want him to know.  I whisper that I love him. Life whispers, so I listen closely just in case he whispers back.

Baby bird.

When I ask Aidan for a kiss, he tilts his head back and opens his mouth..wide. Just like a baby bird waiting for his mama to fill it with tasty worms. I kiss him somewhere between his nose and upper lip. Aidan has Polymicrogyria. It's rarely heard of..because it's rare.

Aidan often reminds me of a little bird. With the way he gives little birdie kisses and shakes his tail feather. He's a rare bird so it makes him different and special. When I feel other children are being unkind or cruel to him....talk about a game of Angry Bird, that's me. Little piggies better watch out for this Grandma bird. It makes me want to pull him into the shelter of my wing. I want to build Aidan a fluffy nest, surrounded by barbwire. But, for how long? Who is going to push him out of this nest? Not me. But, I don't have to because that is Mama birds job. Thank-God. And, she will prepare him and know when the time is right. And scripture says: "Do not worry, look at the birds of the air. They do not sow or reap or store away in barns...your heavenly father feeds them." Surely God has a plan for this baby bird.

Two of my favorite sounds in the early morning are the birds chirping it up with each outside my bedroom window and Aidan's little pitter-patter of this feet walking down the hall to knock on my door, climb in my bed and give me little birdie kisses. It's tweet to my heart.