Liam's Grandma or Maggie in Real Life

Holiday Awareness Post - Part 2

Yesterday afternoon, I posted a blog called, "Holiday Awareness."  At 12:24 am, I awoke having major anxiety over that post.  You see, I am 50 years old and grew up believing in Jesus being the son of God and performing all kinds of miracles and giving us hope.  This past year has been a major revelation for me.  But, unfortunately, perhaps out of fear and perhaps out of feeling as if I'd sinned, I got up and deleted the post. 

This morning, I went to check my Liam's Grandma email and realized that people had left some incredible comments.  All, like me, searching, wondering, being angry at times.  Some, like me, came to the same conclusion I had.  Others had come to that conclusion, but had gone back to their belief system.  Because of those comments, I regretted deleting the post. 

I have tried to resurrect that post through possible hidden caches or through Facebook.  To no avail.  I am requesting that if any of you who saw the post may have it cached in your computer, would you let me know?  I'd like to re-post it, but with additional thoughts and with less anger.  Otherwise, if I don't hear from you, I will try to rewrite it this evening or as soon as I can since I have only brief moments of solitude these days having taken on the joint responsibility (with my husband) of raising a beautiful, loving child named Liam. 

With love and hopes for a beautiful, bright, clear, meaningful and understandable New Year......Maggie

Holiday Hysteria

Maggie is just a bit "Holiday Hysterical," trying to get Christmas shopping done that was only started, um, yes, YESTERDAY.  Add exhaustion to that and the fact that I have full charge of a 21 month old now (at least for a couple of months) who sleeps in my bed with me all night, kicking me, banging heads with me and howling for his binky, and well, I'm looking pretty frightening these days.  Not to mention I took up a conversation with the Christmas tree the other morning as I crawled under it to give it it's morning dose of coffee (water).  Dazed and squinting and feeling the pressure of Liam leaning over my shoulder, I backed out from under the looming conifer and apologized.  To the tree.  For talking to it.  Then I told myself to snap out of it.  And took Liam to the kitchen to make the real coffee.

With that said, I'm sitting her clacking on these keys while Liam sleeps (in my bed) not 8 feet from me.  I think I am going to join him for a nap because, otherwise, I may start talking to light switches.  So here's last year's rendition of Christmas, re-posted, just in case I don't get back to the computer anytime soon:

As we ready for our big trip back east for the holidays, I am feeling a bit off-kilter, perhaps a bit tilted.  It's that adrenalin rush as you race through the mall, trying to be polite when someone takes your parking spot, waving a hello and a smile at the driver who flipped you off for no good reason and reminding yourself that you love everyone.  After all, it's Christmas, people!

By December 19, I had two gifts purchased and decided that, after my daughter came home from work, I was going to hand over her son and take off like a woman with her ass on fire, running for the nearest puddle, i.e., the mall, to quench the insatiable Christmas fever/hysteria.  Two days later, I had 8 gifts purchased and my husband and I were doing push ups, readying ourselves for the triathlon that lay ahead, which included high bars, sprints, and several emotional nose dives as we sped off to the mall to allegedly finish our Christmas shopping.

As it turned out, we finished in second place.  We came close, so close, to getting our shopping done, but the woman ahead of me in Penney's took First, stating that she had already finished her shopping a month ago and was just getting underwear for herself, for crying out  loud.  I mean, who in their right mind goes shopping for underwear during the insanity of holiday shopping?  Wear your husband's for awhile if you have to.  And the woman behind me had just begun her shopping (Third Place, i.e., Loser.  Snort).  

Anyway, it was dinnertime, we were hungry and I have had a lingering virus since Thanksgiving that has been clinging to me like that nightmarish date I had almost 30 years ago when I finally peeled him off of me, called a cab, and, when he came running out of the club after me, I told the driver there was a $20 tip in it for him if he ran him over.  Apparently, the driver didn't realize I was only kidding.  I mean, who would have thought I was serious and even if I was, who would act? Luckily, no one was hurt and I never heard from the clinger again.   

Getting back to the present, as I said, I was hungry.  Making dinner was the last thing on my mind.  In fact, as we strode through the parking lot in search of our car, I was about ready to throw myself in front of one of those maniacs vying for a parking spot when Druck suggested we eat out.  

"What did you say?" I asked, snapping to.  "I said, let's eat out."  "Thank you, Jesus," I sighed.  "My name's not Jesus."  "Well, thank you anyway."

We drove down the road a ways and I spotted a place.  "Let's go there," I said, motioning to what looked like a cute little diner, but, as we got closer and I sat back, eyes closed, Druck drove right past it.  "What'd you do that for?" I glared at him, my stomach rumbling, my body aching and my voice all but gone.  Druck exhaled patiently and said, "There are two ambulances in the parking lot.  One on either side of the building.  We're not eating there."  "We're NEVER eating there," I said emphatically, as I leaned back again and watched for the next eatery.  

We finally decided on a Coney Island, something that is popular in the midwest. Coneys are small diners, usually with standard menus at each.  They have a variety of Greek food such as gyros, Greek salads, tabouli and various other Mediterranean dishes.  In addition, they always have chili dogs, hamburgers and fries.  And they are very affordable.

We went in and took our seat and a waitress resembling the bimbo played by Cher on the Sonny and Cher show (do you remember her - the dangling earrings with the little ball on the ends, wild glasses and the gum chewing?) approached our table.  "Can I get you something to drink?"  she asked through thick lenses.  I ordered a hot tea and, as Druck opened his mouth to request a Diet Pepsi, she scampered off.  "Did you want something to drink, dear?" I asked, smiling.  "I guess not," he said sheepishly.  She returned and stood at our table long enough for him to order his Pepsi and scampered off again.  We ordered our dinners quickly as she stood, one leg severely extended to the side in an almost dramatic display of her impending departure.  Our food arrived quickly, as did the check, and we each enjoyed a Greek salad, conversation, laughter, and then headed for home to assess the financial damage and to count gifts.  We still have this policy of matching, gift for gift, what we give our children.  As for Liam, well, he's gonna make out like a bandit this year.

Like all Christmases, this Christmas is a time I spend reflecting on the year.  A time I choose to think about all of the positive things in our lives rather than the sometimes almost insurmountable challenges.   I am grateful for my beliefs and for embracing the reason for Christmas that so many people forget about.  I thank God for His blessings and for the people He has brought into my life. This year has been one of the greatest years of all, welcoming little Liam into our lives - a child who has changed so many lives for the better.  His smile is more brilliant than the morning sun and his laughter is contagious.  I am astounded by the people who have come alongside of us and who have offered assistance for Liam. Babysitters, friends, single moms, prayer partners, women and men alike, rallying around a small child named Liam who came from Alaska with his mother on a moment's notice, and who has touched so many lives in such a short period of time.  

To quote the words of a very wise man, "God Bless Us, Everyone!"

Copyright 2009 liamsgrandma

Turning 50 - Part Deux

I was going to write an entire saga about turning 50.  But, at 50 years of age, I don't have the energy.  Or the wit.  Or even  the memory of what I ate for dinner last night, so having a 50 year old try to recall what occurred a couple of weeks ago is not going to happen.  Instead, I'll leave it to photos as proof.  Or, who knows, maybe the memories and the writing will just start flowing.  After all, I did take my "50+" vitamin this morning.

Here is a photo of the gown I apparently wore to the office that morning.  I changed into regular clothes after awhile, mostly because I was cold.  Plus, while I have to admit there are times when I enjoy shocking people, an office building is not the place to wear an evening gown.  But, dang-it, I try to wear this gown whenever I can because I like to dress up - even though it's a rare occasion (or there is rarely an occasion to put it on) - mostly because we are not jet setters.  So that means we don't get featured in big spreads in the newspaper when there is some sort of ball and people who think they are important go to rub elbows with other people who think they are important and then they all think they're important and then, those of us looking at the photos in the newspaper think they must be important, and it's a huge ego boost.  That's not my life.  

But I did get a big surprise.  Druck announced he was taking me to Chicago for the weekend to do whatever I wanted.  And that included, if I wanted, getting my own room while he slept somewhere else, like, say, on another floor.  I decided I'd like to share a room with him but thanked him for the option and, as the time to depart got closer, I told him I'd rather go to Grand Rapids.  This was because Grand Rapids is 2 1/2 hours away and Chicago is 5.  Since we weren't leaving until Friday night and we had to return on Sunday, I wanted to shorten the time in the car as much as possible. 

We stayed at my favorite Grand Rapids hotel, The Amway Grand Hotel, which is one of the most beautiful old hotels I have ever been in.  It reminds me of a lovely hotel we stayed at in Nice, France a few years ago but, I must admit, I like this one better.  We ate divinely at the 1913 Room where they set something strange in front of me and I stared at the waiter, dumbfounded.  I don't even remember what he called it.  But it comes prior to your soup and salad (which also has some sort of name to it, but again, I am not one of those who normally goes to the ball so I don't know the lingo).  Druck knows this stuff.  He dines elegantly with scientists from all over the world on a regular basis.  He knows what intermezzo is during a meal, for example.  So he explained to me what everything meant.  Snort.  And, while Druck and I dressed up in all of our finery and I even brought my evening gown (which I have had for about 13 years but have only worn 4 times), I decided not to wear it and instead decided to just wear a simple black dress with black beads, matching earrings and bracelet.  Druck looked dapper in his suit.  Neither one of us take good photos and Druck has been way overworked and incredibly stressed.  And he left his hair gel at home by mistake.  Gasp. But believe me when I tell you that the man is gorgeous.  Has the body of a 30 year old, a brilliant mind, incredible wit and humor - and dimples to die for.  Did I tell you how he left his hair gel at home?  DOUBLE GASP.

The great thing about being married to someone for almost 29 years is that you are so comfortable with each other that if a belch sneaks out unexpectedly, it's not like you have to worry that he's never going to call you again.  He doesn't even look up from his plate as you surprisedly hold the cloth napkin to your lips and glance around the room to see if anyone else noticed.  Thankfully, the chamber music must have been loud enough or perhaps the other patrons thought there was some calamity, like the dropping of a huge pan, in the kitchen, that it seemed ok.

We spent a lovely day Sunday soaking up beautiful weather and touring the Meijer Gardens.  This place is incredible.  We had been there once before but it has something like 180 acres of grounds that are lavishly overflowing with incredible botanicals of every kind.  I wanted to go again to see more. One of these days, I'll post photos from that.  Maybe.  Or I'll just move on to something else.

My sister-in-law was right when she told me that there's something about turning 50.  You realize that most of us have lived half of their lives and you realize how important it is to live the second half (or quarter or two-thirds) more wisely.  I want more time with my grandson.  I want quality time with my husband.  I want some things that are just not tangible.  And I aim to get it.

When I stood up and faced 50 head on, I realized that I have been with Druck longer than I have been without him.  It's not always been easy.  But he is the man I love.  He knows me.  I know him.  And he accepts me like no one else.  Because, hell people, I can finally admit that, at age 50, if this guy has stuck around all these years, he is a Saint.  Mostly because I am different than probably anyone he's ever known.  And perhaps that's why he's stayed with me.  He'll take the weird-ass crap from me just so he can experience the incredible things I bring to him every single day.  Because sometimes the things I bring to the table are worth a laugh or two and break up the monotony of everyday living.  Like the day I called him at work, all unnerved because I had been thinking about estate planning. "Dear?"  "Yes," he sighed.  "I was just thinking about the fact that we still have a mortgage on this house and what if something happens to both of us and our kids don't know what to do and they don't care and, well, you know, they probably wouldn't know or wouldn't care about the fact that if they didn't pay the mortgage, the house would be foreclosed on and the taxes have to be paid, you know, and I just think they'll lose the whole house.  What are we going to do about that?"

After a short sigh, a little pause and some agitated breathing, he said, "Who gives a shit.  We'll be dead.  We won't care.  They're on their own." "Oh, ok.  Right.  Thanks." I loosened my white-knuckled grip on the phone and he went on.  "Now you go run along and call me back when you think of something else to worry about."

Click.

Click.

Copyright 2009 liamsgrandma