tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6528705185806053722024-03-06T19:58:43.889-06:00Living in the LightLive in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air...
R.W. EmersonGingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.comBlogger269125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-55447117162353292852022-08-25T19:28:00.003-05:002023-11-29T15:29:49.110-06:00It Happened<p>The thing I dreaded for 19 years happened. Will moved out of my house.</p><p>He did the natural thing that quite a few kids do - he went to college. </p><p>My tiny blue-eyed, still very blonde- headed baby moved into a dorm. </p><p>He graduated number 1 out of 421 kids from a large, high-achieving suburban high school. </p><p>He gave a brilliant speech as the Senior class President and then got back up out of his seat and gave an amazing Valedictorian speech. I felt like I was having an out of body experience. </p><p>The baby I almost died giving birth to was the leader of his class in more ways than one. </p><p>I still look around and wonder how the child I gave birth to became this amazing person. </p><p>God in his infinite grace and mercy blessed me with this person that I only briefly got to claim as mine and then sent off into this world. He is too good and too pure. </p><p>I have often said I have been visited by angels in my 46 years on this earth. One- my Mother. Two- Greta. Three- Will.</p><p>We are all sad. We are all in mourning. The house is too quiet. It is usually filled with beautiful piano music. Now its just quiet. Sad quiet. Will was our light and our music. He was our perpetual happiness. He was our early-riser and our smile-giver. He was our humble spirit that raised us all to his level. He made us all better people. </p>Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-41328055183318692072019-08-31T18:47:00.000-05:002019-08-31T18:47:19.099-05:00SixteenMy 6 pound 7 ounce, 15 day early tiny baby boy turned 16. The baby that I gave birth to at 3:43 on a Tuesday afternoon, then almost died by 7:00 that night, and didn't get to hold until a few days later got a drivers license. I gave birth to him naturally on a Tuesday afternoon but didn't bring him home until Saturday. If there is lasting birth trauma- well - I still have it 16 years later. This specific baby turned 16, got a car and a drivers license and drives off in it every day now into the dangerous, hard world. And I'm not okay.<br />
<br />
Will is a wonderful kid. I am not worried about him. I am worried about all the other crazy people out there on the roads that don't understand that the 2 only things that matter the most to me are riding in the same car together. Will and Ryan.<br />
<br />
I remember turning 16. It wasn't that big of a deal. My Mom took me over to the DMV one afternoon in September after school, I drove around with the DMV person for a few minutes, Caudill Drive past the Cash's, came back and was done. My Dad bought me a white Toyota Celica - stick shift so I would know how to drive manual transmission- and I was thrilled. Pretty sure I couldn't drive that car for months though because I was grounded for having a D in Frances Bennett's Algebra class. Good times.<br />
<br />
I am sure my Mom was worried. I am sure she thought what in the world am I doing putting my baby into a car and sending her off into the world, but at the time I didn't think/care about that. But this is my baby and I am fully aware of how precious and fleeting life is. I watched one of my friends bury her 16 year old son last year and it permanently changed me and how I view life. Nothing matters. Life is but a vapor. So, I will cherish my 2 angel boys every single day I am gifted with them and I will not apologize for being sad that they drive off in a car without me.<br />
<br />
Tuesday I went to my yoga class for the first time in a while. My yoga teacher is taking her first baby to college this week in California. She had a new music playlist for us and the first song that came on was Landslide by Stevie Nicks. We both looked at each with tears in our eyes. Nothing to say. Nothing can stop the progression of time or from babies driving cars or going to college.<br />
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<br />
<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Well, I've been afraid of changin'</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">'Cause I've built my life around you</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">But time makes you bolder</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Even children get older</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And I'm getting older, too</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I'm getting' older, too</span><br />
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<span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></span>Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-53095068829082717602018-02-15T18:30:00.000-06:002018-02-16T19:20:13.562-06:00High SchoolI registered my first baby for high school yesterday. 9th grade. Freshman year. We had to map out the next 4 years. We had to think about future college admissions requirements- like do we need 2 years of foreign language or 3? Some colleges like to see 3. ( He's 14, so, he doesn't know where he wants to go to college.) He is already signed up for his first AP class and will end up with an AP focus. That's exactly one more AP class than I ever took. He is signed up for Honors Algebra 2 which is farther than I ever made it in math in my entire life. He's 14. He is my baby. The blonde baby that I gave birth to and then almost died without holding. So, I was already kind of feeling a bit emotional. I really only have a little over 4 more years left with him.<br />
<br />
Then I go home. I am folding laundry, as is my life, and have the TV turned on to NBC to watch some Winter Olympics. Breaking News!!! They break in to the Olympics to tell me that another mass shooting has taken place in a Florida High School. Oh, and its the 18th school shooting of the year. Its only February. A suburban high school in Florida. 17 kids dead. 17 kids just like mine and yours. Dead. From an angry kid with an automatic weapon. So, as you can imagine, I don't take this news well. There is really nothing to say to make me feel better. It's Valentine's Day and Ash Wednesday so Mothers, just like me, wearing their heart shirts and ash crosses on their foreheads have to receive news that their kid isn't going to college so it doesn't matter how many years of foreign language she took.<br />
<br />
I am tired of hearing about kids dying at school. I am tired of thinking about it and reading about it on social media. I'm tired of seeing people fight about it on social media. Everyone thinks they have the answer when really there is not one perfect answer. I'm tired of wondering when it will happen in my suburban high school.<br />
<br />
Angry mothers carry quite a bit of power. Angry mothers will not be quiet.Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-55338812720456698802017-07-18T12:30:00.000-05:002017-07-18T12:30:22.350-05:00Kappa Chi<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><i>The social club (sorority) I was a part of in college was Kappa Chi. It is now falling on hard times and with very few members left is in danger of disappearing. Our long-time, beloved faculty sponsor asked us (alumna) to write "What Kappa Chi has meant in our lives." Here is mine:</i></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">I
have a September birthday, so I was always the youngest in my grade. My
parents dropped me off on Lipscomb University’s campus in August of 1993. I was
17 years old.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">All
of my best friends from high school went to big state schools – Tennessee,
Western Kentucky, or Alabama. Not one of my high school friends went to LU. In
a way I was glad. I could make a fresh start, meet new people, and try to find
out what God had planned for my future. I was hoping I could do that easier at
a small Christian college than a big state school. My serious high school
boyfriend was going to college far away in Indiana. Fresh break, fresh start.
Nothing holding me back. I wasn’t one bit scared.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> </span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Well,
it wasn’t all instantly sunshine and rainbows. I had been placed with a random
roommate in Elam who was miserable and obviously did not want to be at LU. She
hardly spoke at all. I avoided our dorm room. I was not feeling at home. I
remember driving all around Green Hills that Fall semester in my little red
Celica just to listen to music. I was only 30 minutes from home, but I
didn’t want to go there either. Sure, I met the girls in Elam but I was still
not finding my people. It was a slow process and by Christmas break I was
wondering if Lipscomb was the right place for me or not.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> </span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">I
had heard talk of the Social Club scene and was very interested. I knew
Freshman couldn’t pledge until Spring so I figured I would stick it out for the
year. My mom had been a Chi Omega at Tennessee and I grew up knowing about the
wonders and beauty of Sorority Sisterhood. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> </span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Thankfully,
I met some other girls that I felt comfortable with and after Christmas break I moved dorm rooms to another floor. I moved in with a girl who would
eventually be a pledge sister and we were next door to 2 other future pledge
sisters. We were on a hall and around the corner from other KX girls and they
started inviting us to Open Rush events. Ok! I found them! These were my
people. I knew without any doubt these girls were my sisters, my people,
my family.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">On
Bid Night, I only wrote down one club- KX. I was in the Spring 1994
pledge class. There were 10 of us. We were awesome. I went on to have the 6
best weeks of my life during pledging. I would re-live them in a heartbeat.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> </span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">Kappa
Chi is probably the real reason I stayed at LU and have an actual degree (from a now $43,000/yr university.) If I
had not met those KX girls who invited me to Open Rush events, I don’t know
that I would have stayed without the Greek system. I was craving the sisterhood
that KX gave me. I am an only child. This in itself is an entire other article,
but I think it is the main reason that I needed that Sisterhood so very badly.
Not all girls do. Some girls are very happy with their college life without a
sorority. I needed to feel like I was part of a family, with sisters, and a
purpose, and an 8:30 meeting to be at every Tuesday night. I was
vice-president for 2 of my 4 years and this also gave me a job and a purpose. I
enjoyed the entire process of Rush and Bid night and planning events. KX is
notoriously bad at rushing girls, but I loved it! I loved meeting the younger
girls and trying to make them feel included because SOMEONE DID THAT FOR ME and
it made all the difference.</span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">I
still talk to my KX sisters on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis. My sister in
law is a KX sister and my mother in law is a charter member. KX has had a
lasting impact on my life. I know KX has had its share of struggles over the
years and recruiting and rushing girls has never been easy. This is almost an
unspoken quality of a KX girl. We just can’t make you like us. You either do or
you don’t. But, for me, KX kept me at LU and changed my life. And some of the best memories I will take with me to my
deathbed include my KX sisters and really loud laughter.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"><br /></span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> </span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";">PEACE
AND LOVE.</span><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif";"> </span></span><br />
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Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-1824745852719195682017-07-10T19:37:00.000-05:002017-07-10T19:38:51.019-05:00Boy MomI guess I just always assumed I would have a girl baby. I don't know why, but I did. That's how I saw myself. I always just wanted to be a Mom and when I would play babies growing up with Missy, we always had baby girls. In dresses. And bows. I mean, I was a girl. I didn't have brothers, so that is all I knew. Girls and girl stuff.<br />
<br />
So, I was pleasantly surprised when I found out Will was going to be a boy. How fun! A boy! What a surprise! How unique! We had our name pretty much picked out for us, so that wasn't hard. What a great treat for my Dad, to have a grandson. I got on board with the boy thing very quickly. Big brothers are great ( I was already thinking down the road to future siblings,) every girl needs a big brother to protect her. How fun! A BOY! And I would spend MUCH less money on clothes! This is great!<br />
<br />
And Will was born and he was perfect. He was an angel. He was the answer to every prayer I ever prayed. He was everything I needed and never knew. He was beautiful with his bright blue eyes and blonde hair.<br />
<br />
So, about 2 and 1/2 years later we were unexpectedly expecting another baby. I hummed and hawed and couldn't decide if I wanted to know the gender or not. But, we were in a position where I really needed to plan ahead for many reasons. So, we found out we were expecting another boy. Shock. I was in shock. We both thought for sure it was a girl. We both would've bet the farm it was a girl. What in this world? Why would we want two boys? I think John Will even promised me it was a girl. I called my Dad first and told him while he was playing golf that he was getting another boy. I think he was secretly disappointed. Nana, however, was convinced of John Will's masculinity after siring 2 boys in a row. I spent 9 months wrapping my mind around the idea of a little brother. Two boys. Who did God think I was? Expert boy Mom?<br />
<br />
And Ryan was born and he was gorgeous. And we have never been happier to hear a baby cry after 45 minutes of silence and a wrapped cord. He was big and beautiful and exactly what I needed. He is the second half of my soul that I never knew was missing. He has hazel eyes and broad shoulders and the compassion and strength our family needed.<br />
<br />
So, where is my girl? I am still looking for her. I have had Greta and now Betsy, but they are not exactly the same. Not that I miss the drama and eye rolls. No ma'am, I don't need anyone telling me constantly what to do and what to wear. But, I wouldn't mind shopping at the American Girl doll store. Or, picking out a wedding dress. Or helping someone out in the delivery room some day. I doubt my daughter-in-laws will welcome me in the delivery room. And I doubt they will want my advice. And they won't call me with cooking questions. And I will be lonely. And that makes me sad. I might meet my girl some day, but it won't be this side of Heaven. And, I guess that's okay.<br />
<br />
Because being a boy mom is awesome. My boys are sweet and kind. They are smart and strong. They tell me I'm beautiful and cuddle with me at night. They could not care less what they wear. I have happily watched more baseball games than I ever envisioned in my future. I have heard more Mindcraft stories and Pokémon stories than I ever needed to hear. I have witnessed excitement over new Star Wars movies and ping pong tables. I have seen my son cry real tears over a Tennessee football game. What more I could want? I have no idea.<br />
<br />
<br />Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-11034223400160111092017-05-22T19:13:00.000-05:002017-05-23T06:57:09.653-05:00AdultingI have had to do a lot of things lately that I really did not want to do. I think this has been labeled "adulting" now by Millenials and other people who are younger and generally cooler than me. Adulting is doing things like paying bills, going to work, and generally doing things adult humans have to do in life. Apparently this generation likes to eat Brunch and drink Mimosas. Sounds good to me, but it is not reality.<br />
<br />
Last Friday I had to watch my husband be a pall bearer at his best friend's wife's funeral. She was 44. She has a 9 year old daughter who spoke at the funeral. These are things I do not want to witness.<br />
<br />
I have had to make some medical decisions recently that I did not want to make. Decisions that 41 year women have to make. I did not want to make these decisions or think about these things. I want to be 27 forever. And weigh 114 pounds. But, alas, the reality is much grimmer.<br />
<br />
I am having to watch our grandmothers get older. JW's grandmother is now in a nursing home. She is not happy living there and his mother is having to take care of her. This is brutal to watch.<br />
My own young and beautiful Nana is now getting older. I do not want to accept this at all. I want her to be young and active forever. And make me Totino's Party Pizza, and style hair, and tell people they have gained weight. <br />
<br />
My own two boys are getting older. They are having to go places like middle school. Gross. We have to make academic decisions for them like signing their life away to things like AP Calculus and Statistics. Decisions I do not want to make for my 7th grader. They are growing and learning things that older kids learn. This is not what I want. Why can't people stay small and watch Thomas the Train forever?<br />
<br />
I have had to sacrifice things I have really wanted to do because my boys needed to be somewhere or do something. I sit at hot and dusty baseball fields at dusk even though it means when I get home I won't be able to breathe all night. <br />
And to be honest, I don't even care. I am constantly shocked and amazed that God thought enough of me to bless me with these two boys. Highest compliment I will ever be given.<br />
<br />
But, I don't like the getting old part. I just don't. It is "adulting" at it's height, and I could do without it. JW and I both lament getting older. Everyone is a liar. They say "oh 40 is so great. 40 is the new 30." Liars. All of them.<br />
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<br />
<span class="text Ps-78-4" id="en-NIV-15118" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12px; font-weight: bold; left: -4.4em; line-height: 22px; position: absolute; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;">4 </span>We will not hide them from their descendants;<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-15118D" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-15118D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-78-4" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">we will tell the next generation<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-15118E" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-15118E" title="See cross-reference E">E</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-78-4" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">the praiseworthy deeds<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-15118F" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-15118F" title="See cross-reference F">F</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> of the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-numeric: normal;">Lord</span>,</span><br />
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-78-4" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">his power, and the wonders<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-15118G" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-15118G" title="See cross-reference G">G</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> he has done.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="text Ps-78-7" id="en-NIV-15121" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">Then they would put their trust in God</span><br />
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-78-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">and would not forget<span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NIV-15121K" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NIV-15121K" title="See cross-reference K">K</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 0.625em; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span> his deeds</span></span><br />
<span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-78-7" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; position: relative;">but would keep his commands.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">PSALM 78</span><br />
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Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-86477068410630989652016-02-05T09:40:00.000-06:002016-02-05T11:03:06.407-06:00Over AchieverIt is a cold, sunny February morning. I just made my 3rd cup of coffee despite the fact that I have piles of laundry and a 42 pound terrier that wants a walk. It is Friday morning and I am tired from waking up in the dark to a 6 am alarm all week.<br />
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I had my yearly physical yesterday and I really am thankful for my good health. My doctor told me I was "biologically 30" instead of 40. I do not know if this is really a medical thing or not, but I'll take it. Most mornings I feel 40, though. <br />
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Musings from my 40 year old mind today:<br />
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I married an over-achiever. It was inevitable, really, since I was raised by an over-achiever. <br />
My father was the hot stuff of his small west TN town. He was salutatorian of his high school class and captain of the basketball team. He was in student government, popular, and friends with everyone. He went on to succeed in college and then Air Force officer training school where he graduated 2nd in his Flight school class. He went on to be a flight instructor and then had a successful career as an airline pilot. The man knows how to fly at least 5 different airplanes. He has retired from flying airplanes and now, at 65, has started a successful financial planning business. He has an MBA and is a CFP. He is athletic, handsome, and rarely meets a stranger. He has succeeded at everything he has ever attempted. I often say he has lived a charmed life. <br />
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My mother was raised by a strong, single mother in a small TN town. She was a cheerleader and a college beauty queen. She was a true Chi Omega. She is petite, beautiful, and smart as a whip. Besides her physical beauty, she is truly an angel. Everyone that has met her knows this. I have been her daughter for 40 years and have rarely heard an unkind word come out of her mouth. She embodies Proverbs 31 and defines the term "Godly woman." She lives to help people.<br />
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As an only child, this was quite a lot to live up to. I have often said I didn't have anyone to help spread out the disappointment! Seriously though, they never made me feel like that. All this to say, I know why I was attracted to John Will.<br />
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Mom has been on a cleaning kick for, oh, her whole life. But, recently she gave me back boxes with all my old journals that I kept all through high school and college. In one of the college-era journals I made a list of characteristics I wanted in my husband. At the top of the list (along with Christian) were the words: "someone smarter than me." Now, some might say that wouldn't take much, but I specifically remember breaking up with guys that I felt were not quite smart enough. I was never attracted to guys who didn't take school seriously. I needed someone that I knew I could trust to be smarter than I was. I know that sounds crazy. I just read it and it does sound crazy. But, when I met John Will I knew. It's as simple as that. I knew he was the one for me and 16 years later I am still crazy about him.<br />
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Last night Will got yet another phone call from a classmate asking about an assignment. This used to make me mad, but it happens so frequently now I am over it. Ryan asked me: "why do people always call Will about school work?" I answered: "because Will knows everything." And it's true. <br />
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Our community was crushed last week when a Senior at the high school committed suicide. He was a National Merit Scholar, had a 35 on his ACT and had a full ride to his dream college. No one knows why he did it and he had showed no warning signs. It was a total shock. Our middle and high school are nationally ranked public schools. People in our community are extremely proud of our schools reputation for having high test scores and lots of National Merit scholars. Many kids go on to Ivy League schools. The rigorous academics are a source of pride. But let me make this clear: IT IS NOT WORTH IT. A child's life is not worth it. I have just spent this entire post telling you about my over-achieving parents and husband. But, I am now telling you I do not want this burden for my boys. It is just not worth it. If it comes easily to them, great. If it drives them to the point of insanity, then by all means let's just be average. I once read an article entitled, "The World is Run by C Students." This may or may not be true but the lesson here is that it is okay to not be perfect. It is okay to not be an over-achiever. <br />
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So, today I wish you love. I wish you many days filled with sunshine and happiness. I wish you a healthy acceptance of who you are and who God made you to be. Nothing more and nothing less.<br />
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<br />Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-7052924493092272522015-09-03T12:01:00.000-05:002015-09-03T12:01:11.660-05:00This is 39<div class="article-content">
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<b><span style="line-height: 1.5em;">Disclaimer: I did not write the essay below. But, I wish that I had written it. I can identify with every single word. Every. Single. Word. I only have a few more days left in my 30's. It is hard to take. Hard. I could have written every word below from the fact that WAY too many people I know get diagnosed with cancer to wondering about Natalie Merchant and hoping she is okay. I cannot deal with the mall but I still love Guns N Roses in an </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">unhealthy</span><span style="line-height: 1.5em;"> way. It's scary, but here I am. Turning 40. As my Dad would say, think of the alternative. </span></b><br />
<b><i><span style="line-height: 1.5em;">This is taken from the </span><span style="line-height: 1.5em;">Scary Mommy blog</span><span style="line-height: 1.5em;">. </span></i></b><br />
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<span style="line-height: 1.5em;">I am feeling my age. Age is a loaded word and concept, but in my case, what I mean is that I feel this year of 39 completely: this is not just another year in the life. When I was younger, the milestone birthdays seemed to be 13, 16, 18, and 21. I remember announcing what I believed to be the last of them at 25, a birthday I felt marked the beginning of when “everything counts” as well as my ability to finally rent a car on my own. But 39 has been a milestone too — maybe even more than 40 will be. I feel as if I am standing in a more significant threshold, leaving one place and entering another.</span><br />
This is my 39…<br />
At 39, you splurge on Justin Timberlake concert tickets because you love him in a way that almost feels inappropriate — even though you still remember his hair circa the ’90s — but then you find that his concert homage to Bel Biv Devoe’s “Poison” thrills you even more than “Suit and Tie.”<br />
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You do all your Christmas shopping on Amazon — not because you are all savvy and techy, but for the simple reasons that you cannot bear to deal with crowds and parking at the shopping malls and you don’t have time to shop on foot anyway. ( I once spent New Year’s Eve in Times Square. I went to Woodstock in ’94. When did I become such a wimp and so “busy?”)<br />
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People you love have cancer. <em>Way too many</em> people you love have cancer. It makes you angry. And scared.<br />
Thus, you look at moles differently. You start staring in the bathroom mirror for long bouts of time, trying to figure out what is going on above your upper lip and what to do about your forehead and WTH that tiny bump on your temple is.<br />
You dish with your college girlfriends about miracle devices that remove chin hairs and the most comfortable yoga pants for school pick up. Because, you know, that is <em>hot</em>.<br />
Your husband remarks to you that Taylor Swift seems like “she’d be a really cool girl to have… as a daughter.”<br />
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You find yourself keeping the car running so you can finish hearing that Guns ‘n’ Roses song on the radio — on the <em>easy listening</em> station (the hell?) — because it reminds you of college. Hall and Oates take you straight to the backseat of your parents’ car on road trips to the beach when you were a child, and Paul Simon and Billy Joel sing the songs that you hold sacred, the songs that your parents used to play <em>on a record player </em> at parties that went past your bedtime.<br />
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You cry at commercials and flipping You Tube videos. You don’t want to watch violent movies. You wonder how the teenagers at the mall have parents who let them dress that way. You realize with a start that although you believed you <em>were</em> Carrie when you watched <em>Sex and the City </em>on HBO<em>, </em>you now think of Carrie and her friends as “young,” and they totally wouldn’t hang out with you.<br />
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You hear through the grapevine about friends separating and divorcing, a stark contrast to your 20s and early 30s when there was another wedding every weekend. It feels surreal; divorce seems like such a grown-up thing to do, even more than mortgages and minivans and babies. It’s threatening, like a tornado that might randomly hit you or someone you love. Even though divorces are not random at all, they <em>feel</em> random — which is terrifying.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">You spend lunches with friends comparing local memory loss facilities and living wills for your parents in the same breath as preschools and tennis lessons for your kids.</span></h4>
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Everyone you know is training for some kind of race — whether it’s a half marathon, a full marathon, or an Ironman (o<em>verachievers</em>). Your friends wear CrossFit T-shirts and Zumba pants at the grocery store because they actually <em>do</em> those things. Fitness is the new mid-life crisis.<br />
Still, you very possibly might drink a Diet Coke with your lunch of kale and quinoa salad. Details.<br />
Speaking of beverages: hello, hangovers. Every drink after your first is now some huge risk and gamble on whether tomorrow will be absolutely miserable.<br />
You squint more. You consider appliances a viable gift option. You don’t know any of the bands playing on New Year’s Rockin’ Eve — and you don’t want to — but you can totally beat your kids at Just Dance (and only Just Dance). It ticks them off in a very satisfying way, but you are pathetically sore the next day.<br />
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You find yourself wondering whatever happened to Winona Ryder and Natalie Merchant. You hope they are okay, because they feel like distant cousins you grew up with once upon a time. You have a soft spot for Ethan Hawke and John Cusack and you always will, like the boys next door growing up that you can’t forget. Jake Ryan will always be the hottest boy who ever lived, and no, you don’t want to see a picture of what he looks like now. Thanks.<br />
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Your parents are slowing down and retiring. Some of your friends are losing their parents. It feels like some kind of seismic shift to realize that our generation is now up to bat. <em>We’re</em> the ones leading our countries and churches and corporations and the world. It’s us. Donna Martin graduated and has four children now — and so do I. The same people I drank with in college are now in charge of universities and hedge funds and corporate giants and Homeland Freaking Security. <em>Gulp</em>.<br />
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That blows my 39-year-old mind, because I feel like a teenager in middle age clothing. I still feel like someone else should be the grown up. Still, I do feel ready to take responsibility for life and my place in it. I am not afraid to speak up for what I believe. I accept that not everyone is going to like me, even if it still hurts. I know I am never going to be perfect, and I no longer even want to be. I feel like I know what I want from my life, regardless of the expectations of others; unfortunately, I also know that my own expectations for myself are the hardest to bear and the least forgiving. I’m still getting used to the idea that this blur around me is my <em>life</em> happening, but I am getting there.<br />
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So, I’m happy to wear ballet flats instead of stilettos, and I have finally decided that Spanx are not actually worth it — I don’t care <em>who</em> is going to be at the party. And I have realized that I am the only mother my kids are going to get, so I better treat myself well and let them know that as imperfect as I am, I’m still valuable . Someday, they will all be imperfect, valuable 39-year-olds too.<br />
I cannot lie: 40 scares me a little bit. This is the big-time. But it scares me in a good way, the kind that feels all tingly and full of possibility. If this is 39, I think that there is a lot to be hopeful for in my 40s. As long as I can figure out that whole what’s-going-on-above-my-upper lip thing.</div>
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Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-78259112316483605842015-07-28T09:29:00.000-05:002015-07-28T13:00:18.536-05:00Identity<br />
I have been going to a Sunday School class at church this Summer that I have really enjoyed. I am usually downstairs in the preschool wing teaching 2-3 year-olds to sing "Jesus Loves Me." I love that too, but sometimes it is nice to sit in an adult class.<br />
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This past Sunday we talked about identity and transitions. Most humans do not embrace change well. I would be first on that list. We wrap our identities up in different things. One example he gave was the woman who has a husband with an important career who works long hours and kids who go off to college and is left with an empty nest. Who is she then? Where is she left? I immediately felt defensive. Well, huh, I am super proud of my husband. I have supported him every step of the way. I am his number one fan. I honestly think he is the bees knees.<br />
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I am super proud of my boys. Listening to my 12 year old play Ode to Joy on the piano is almost more than this Mother's heart can take. Watching the way Will treats people and respects others makes me so proud. Seeing my 9 year old have intensity and faith beyond his years is amazing to me. Ryan would step in front of a moving train for his brother. No questions asked. They are both smarter than either one of their parents and seem to have gotten the best traits and qualities of all their family members. Grandparents included.<br />
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When I was about 8 years old I remember wanting to be a ballerina. I took dance for many, many years with my best friend, Missy. Neither one of us had a lick of coordination when it came to dance, but good gracious, we had a blast. In high school I shadowed a female attorney on Career Day because I wanted to go to Law School and be a lawyer. I still think that would have been a good move for me but by 1998, I just wanted to graduate with a college degree. The thought of more school and more paper-writing was atrocious to me. In the mean time, I also remember wanting to join Greenpeace and save the whales. Wanting to go into journalism and be the next Anna Wintour or Jane Pauley. Wanting to get a Ph.D in Southern Literature from Vanderbilt. Wanting to go to Ole Miss and get a Masters in Southern Culture. (Because there is always such a high demand for experts in Southern Studies.) In the end, after I met my future husband, all I wanted to do was be a Mother.<br />
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For better or for worse, I promise I won't lay on my deathbed and wish I had done anything else. My life could end tomorrow. I have already seen too many friends my age diagnosed with cancer. I promise I won't think: "man, I really shouldn't of wasted my life raising two boys to be men." "I really should not have loved them so much." All that time driving people to baseball, soccer, school, and church activities. All those wasted mornings packing lunches, walking my dogs and folding laundry. All the hours spent at school, in my kitchen making cookies, prayers prayed, friends counseled. All the bike rides after dinner. All the days spent at the pool. No, I'm good. So, yeah, at 39, staring 40 in the face, I'm good with my identity. Thanks anyway, though.Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-49744732219229110592015-05-18T09:41:00.001-05:002015-05-18T09:45:31.576-05:00Its May Again. Cue the Emotions.3 1/2 more days of school left this year. This year will be a big transition for our family as Will goes to middle school and the boys will no longer be in the same school together.<br />
I need to recap the past week. It may take me all summer to recover.<br />
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This past Friday our school had the 5th grade promotion ceremony. This is a beautiful, well-done ceremony where each student is recognized. They sing songs, have a slide-show and give awards. We have six 5th grade classes and each teacher chooses one student to receive the outstanding student award given based on exemplary character, achievement, personality, etc. Well, this being my first 5th grade promotion ceremony to attend, I did not know this award existed. Will Dawson won the award for his class. I was a mess. I am not surprised Will won the award, but I am so proud his teacher recognized him. I told him I would be equally as proud of him if he never won a single award, but I am so happy his wonderful teacher saw the light in him that I have always seen. He is an amazing kid and he makes me proud every day, award or not.<br />
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Ryan just ended a tough baseball season. He played up in a select division this year for the first time. He was on a new team and they had a hard time hanging with some of the other more-seasoned teams. Little league baseball is a tough scene for me. They are 8 and 9 year old little boys expected to play a very mature, impossibly hard game. Some of these kids will play up to 50 games over a couple months time. Parents on the road traveling every weekend. Thankfully, our team did not have that kind of schedule but we played teams that did. I loved watching the games and supporting these boys who honestly game 110% every time they were on the field. The sad truth is that in our area of town only the very best will succeed and end up playing on a school team. These boys will have personal trainers and private lessons year-round. It is hard for me to accept that truth. Ryan can be very intense and competitive, but he is only 9. Who can decide what they want to devote their life to when they are 9? We take it one season at a time.<br />
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Ryan is still my love. He still can't pass me without touching me or hugging me. He wrote me a Mother's Day piece in class and on "What is one of your favorite things about your mom?" he wrote: "when she laughs." And that, my friends, made my whole life.<br />
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<br />Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-36724247621916328572014-10-23T08:53:00.000-05:002014-10-23T08:54:14.553-05:0010 Things I Know for Sure:<br />
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1. Jesus Christ is My Lord and Savior. Without Him, I would be lost and empty. <br />
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2. God put me on Earth to be a Mother to the two most amazing boys in the world. I wake up every morning knowing that is my purpose. <br />
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3. Nothing taste better on a cold Fall morning that a cup of hot pumpkin spice coffee. Watching the sun rise while drinking this cup of hot coffee is truly magical. <br />
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4. Perspective is very important. Keeping life in perspective is a minute by minute exercise. Also known as "The Big Picture." Most things in daily life do not matter in The Big Picture. <br />
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5. The Lord forgives. Forgiving yourself is harder. <br />
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6. Being kind matters. Being kind to animals matter. Being kind to those who don't look or act like you matters. Just be nice. Just be kind. <br />
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7. What sports team your kid plays on doesn't matter. It just doesn't. I promise. <br />
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8. Eating healthy food matters. I promise you will feel better. <br />
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9. The cream always rises to the top. Always. It might take a while, but it rises. <br />
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10. When I get to Heaven I am going to run until I find my Grandmama. And I can't wait. <br />
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<br />Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-63013389541134540462014-01-16T09:42:00.000-06:002014-01-16T18:45:03.007-06:00Don't stare in the mirror on cold January morningsLooking in the mirror this morning I see the deep creases in my forehead from years of scrunching up my forehead wondering about people. It's the exact same expression Ryan wore on his face for the first 2 years of his life. Unsure about people. Not willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and a smile. The older he gets the more I see myself in him. Hoping its the good, but knowing it's probably the crazy too. <br />
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I also see the additional 10 (15 if we are honest) pounds that I am currently waging war on this year. It is not nearly as easy to lose now as it was when I was 21 and could run a few extra miles. It is beyond frustrating. Weight is not something I ever, ever thought I would have to worry about, but this is 38 and 2 babies.<br />
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I look at my hands and can't believe how bad they look. Scars from eczema and repeat cooking burns have left them looking like my grandmamas. I will decide this is not entirely a bad thing.<br />
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I see the beginning of tiny creases around my eyes. I try to ignore these for now. I have long taken pride that I inherited the good skin that can only come from good genes. Skin you can not purchase. No expensive skin products can replace good genes. My Nana's porcelain skin at 81 is beautiful. So, for now, I will not worry about the eye creases. <br />
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I do not look in the mirror and see my Mother. I keep wondering when she will stare back at me, but for now I do not see her. And, that's fine. <br />
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Sometimes I look in the mirror and the little voice in the back of my head starts asking questions. "What are you doing?" "What have you done?" "Are you sure you are doing enough?" Annoying questions like that make me doubt myself. I try to ignore that little voice most of the time. <br />
<a data-ved="0CAUQjRw" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=images&cd=&docid=YYfU4O1w_EylWM&tbnid=s7Rq3KupzuC9IM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fmelissaalanna.blogspot.com%2F&ei=g_vXUvabKtPfkQer74GoAg&bvm=bv.59568121,d.eW0&psig=AFQjCNHQekVow5lAx7TCsagx3Zd4Ff06aA&ust=1389972581828903" id="irc_mil" style="border: 0px currentColor;"><img class="irc_mut" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtjJZWEnPfRlJK9wtcyi4dUzpwLC8Zew0AO4J-WGgnAtIas3Vy9QHu1KJ79a-yF6xomKJo9mZBLrLf6Cxcw0vw_uoYhoZ-Y7OpYU-D8_HExIaZdsKGa-9G1d7qaCyYlLvOr-_zCOrBzw/s1600/tumblr_lscuua7Bp81r3736to1_500.jpg" height="375" id="irc_mi" sb_id="ms__id3644" style="margin-top: 82px;" width="500" /></a>Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-6216970659662507752013-11-10T16:38:00.001-06:002013-11-10T16:38:39.099-06:0020 YearsLast Saturday night I went to my 20 year high school reunion. 1993 doesn't seem that long ago, but I guess it was. <br />
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I think we all felt like it was a little strange that it has been 20 years. I mean, we talked about things that happened in high school like they happened last week. Since we now have Facebook, we know where everyone lives, what they do, and what their kids dressed up like for Halloween. So, not a lot of time was spent on the "what are you doing now?" conversation. <br />
I graduated with about 300 people, but maybe 100 came to the reunion. I wish more people had attended, but was so glad to see the ones that did come.<br />
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Hendersonville was a great place to grow up. It is a beautiful suburb of Nashville that is set on a lake. We had fantastic public schools and we were all expected to graduate, go to college, and do something with our lives. In the summers we hung out on the lake or at the various swim and tennis clubs. Hendersonville felt like a small town in that you could cruise around on a Friday night and always see someone you knew, but we had Nashville at our fingertips as well. I guess a lot of towns were like this, but Hendersonville was ours. <br />
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The people I grew up with are amazing, hilarious, smart, beautiful people. We grew up together, made mistakes together, celebrated each other, and took care of each other. Hendersonville still feels like home. Seeing those people felt like coming home. <br />
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I love my college friends. I really do. But there is nothing like the people who have known you since you were in the 2nd grade. <br />
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I really wish that I could see these people more than a few hours every 10 years. It is simply not enough to have any kind of quality conversation. It was so nice to be transported back to my high school self for a moment in time. I am going to have to try to figure out a way to plan a 25 year reunion. I love my 38 year old mom self. I have a blast with my boys and I would not trade these days for anything, but 16 year old Ginger was a fun girl too. <br />
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<br />Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-14568767919759801832013-08-02T09:12:00.001-05:002013-08-02T09:12:24.851-05:00The Summer of Betsy<br />
Summer of 2013 will be remembered as the summer our family welcomed a new member into our house and it has been a big kick in the pants. Miss Betsy is 110% full of herself. <br />
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She is a soft-coated Wheaten terrier. We got her when she was 8 weeks, just a mere baby. She is now almost 13 weeks old. She looks like a real live teddy bear. I must admit, she is much cuter than I had imagined. Probably the cutest puppy I have ever seen. She is incredibly soft and cuddly, but will turn her head and chomp down on your hand before you know what's happening. <br />
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She will happily go to the bathroom outside in the yard WHERE SHE IS SUPPOSED TO GO, then will come in and go in the corner of the dining room. <br />
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She loves the boys with such a passion. She actually vibrates when she is in the room with them. She thinks they are her "puppy brothers" and want to constantly play and wrestle with them. They love it too until she clamps down on their ankle. This is a huge difference from Greta who was extremely protective of the boys and considered herself their other mother. <br />
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I know she has the potential to be an amazing, smart dog. I know she will get there. But, for now she is a 12 week old puppy who wakes up barking at 2 am because she needs to go to the bathroom and wants to snuggle in bed with her mommy (not sleep alone in a crate.) And how can I say no to this face ?<br />
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<br />Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-84895215362968088562013-05-22T09:33:00.003-05:002013-05-22T09:33:59.622-05:00Nine More MaysEvery May in our town the local high schools have yard signs made for all the graduating Seniors with their names to place in their front yard. As we drive through our neighborhood the boys love to read all the names. "Brentwood High School Senior 2013 Hayden," Peter, Ashley, Sarah, and so on.<br />
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I started thinking that in 9 more Mays I might have one of those yard signs with Will's name on it. That sounds like a long time to you, but to me it sounds like tomorrow. <br />
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My first born. My angel baby. Have I said all the right things? Am I teaching him the right things?<br />
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Am I too hard on him? Not hard enough? What will his memories of home be? How will he remember me as a Mother? A crazy person? What stories will he tell on me? <br />
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It's easy to get caught up in the minutia of everyday. Eat breakfast, get in the car, go to school, come home, go to baseball, eat dinner, take a bath, go to bed. Repeat. <br />
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I continue to be amazed by my oldest child. He is smarter than me and has been since the day he was born. Our brains do not work in the same way, but I admire him just like I do his father. I look forward to watching how he will grow and what he will accomplish over the next 9 years. <br />
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I know at some point his heart will be broken and he will want to lose faith in this world. It happens to all of us. He will realize that people will let you down. I know I can't be there to pick up the pieces and make it all better. But, I hope the seed of faith is already planted and he will understand that we can overcome. We can do anything through our Christ who give us strength. <br />
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So, as I try to teach the daily "grand scheme of life" lessons: treat others as you want to be treated, pick up after yourself, say "yes ma'am," don't eat Sonic hot dogs at 8:30 at night; I remember the same lessons my parents tried to teach me. At the time they probably didn't think they were sticking, but they did. Oh, they did. I just never dreamed I would have 2 amazing boys to teach the same lessons to one day. God exceeds all my dreams and expectations. He is good all the time. <br />
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<br />Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-32027895601189227862013-05-02T14:56:00.000-05:002013-05-02T17:19:53.271-05:00Angels<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Greta would have been 12 years old on April 28. But, she crossed over the Rainbow Bridge the week before. We had to make the incredibly tough decision to put her to sleep. I kept her alive for about 18 months longer than I probably should have. She did not have any quality of life left due to her blindness and other problems. I can talk about it now and I am at peace with the decision. I wish she had had been able to experience more healthy years, instead of miserable blind years. In my mind, she should have been healthy until about 13. </div>
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I have always said that God has given me 3 angels here on Earth that I am aware of (probably more unseen angels.)</div>
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The first one is my Mother. Anyone who knows her knows she is truly an angel. As close to perfect a human as I will ever know. </div>
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The second one is Greta. </div>
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The third one is Will. (Ryan is an angel too, but he is a whole other post.)</div>
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But this post is about my angel Greta. Greta came to me at a tough time in my life. I had lost a baby due to a tough miscarriage. Greta came to us a few months later. She came from a sweet lady who breeds schnauzers simply because she loves schnauzers. These dogs sleep in the bed with her. No outdoor runs or crates. </div>
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She doesn't let her puppies go until they are 12 weeks old and fully house trained. (This is unheard of.)</div>
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By the time we got her, she was house-trained and didn't have accidents. She didn't tear anything up! She barely chewed one leg of an old table we had in our den. She cried a little bit those first few nights missing her mother and siblings. So, John Will slept on the couch with her and she was fine. Did I mention how much JW loved her? </div>
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I cried the day I had to go back to work and leave her at home alone. John Will would come home for lunch to let her out and play with her. We did not crate her. Again, she didn't destroy things. She was perfectly well-behaved. I use her as example of why crate training is not the end- all- be-all of dog training. She trusted us and we trusted her. <br />
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She helped me through many dark days that would come and helped me see my way to the other side. She helped me bring Will into this world and welcomed him home with her protective schnauzer way. She happily moved to Knoxville with us and had a big fenced in backyard that she loved. She reluctantly welcomed Ryan home too. (And then all her hair turned gray.) <br />
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She went everywhere with us and we rarely boarded her. She hated to be boarded in a kennel and would come home with a hoarse voice from barking and crying incessantly the entire time. When we went somewhere and could not take her, she stayed with Nonnie and BB and Presley. Her home away from home. <br />
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She moved back to Brentwood with us into a house with no fenced in backyard. And, she would go on her little excursions around the neighborhood finding cat food and who knows what else. Everyone in the neighborhood knew her and at least acted like they liked her. <br />
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Then she suddenly went blind from retinal degeneration. And her health deteriorated from there. <br />
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Greta comes from a 5-generation line of champion schnauzers. Her father was a 3-time national champion from a well-known breeder in Knoxville. We lucked into finding her from a lady who lives about 10 minutes away in Franklin. We didn't pay that much for her. When she looked like she looks in that picture above, people would stop me out walking her and ask about her. She was gorgeous. She carried herself with pride. She could have easily been a show dog. But, none of that mattered. Her sweet, smart disposition is what we all fell in love with. <br />
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I am here to tell you, as crazy as you may think I sound, God sent this angel in a schnauzer suit to me.<br />
I was blessed every day by her and there will never be another Greta. I am reluctant to get another dog because I am honestly afraid I will not be able to love it as much as Greta. <br />
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Miss you, Gretagirl. <br />
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<br />Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-5531879948731029892012-12-29T19:41:00.000-06:002012-12-29T19:43:59.457-06:002012I went to 5 funerals between August 31st and October 30th. I am 37 years old. It is not strange that I have known people who have died. But 5 in 2 months was a lot for my soul to bear. <br />
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This has been heavy on my heart for months now, and I just don't think I can close out this year without paying tribute to these people. <br />
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The first one was a grandmother of one of my best friends. Nanny. Nanny lived alone, walked for miles everyday, gardened, cooked, babysat, drove to church, and was fiercely independent until her last day. She lived until almost 100 with not a bit of assistance! She was babysitting her great-grandchildren right up until her death. She got the last one sent off to Kindergarten and decided she was tired. She is now at home with her Savior. <br />
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The second one was sweet <a href="http://www.savoringtheday.com/">Sara Walker.</a> (If you have not read her story or blog, please stop and do so now.) 35 years old. A mother of 2 boys. A wife. A daughter. A sister. A friend. A disciple of Christ. Her life ended too soon, but oh to be able to make an impact like she did. The world has not heard the last of the life of Sara Walker. You just wait.<br />
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The third one was the mother of one of my best friends. (I am not ready to start attending funerals of my friends parents.) I spent many nights at this woman's house. I ate her red velvet cake and her rotel dip. She drove my pre-teen age friends and me to football games and listened to us act like idiots. She has a son and a daughter and a beautiful granddaughter that all need her. She left us too early. <br />
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The fourth was a friend of mine from church. A lady I sat next to in my women's Bible Study group. I attended a book club at her house. She was not a close friend, but someone I knew and admired. Her death was a result of the horrible meningitis brought on by the tainted steroid shot she received. Her story has been on the local and national news. She has 2 sons and a husband that desperately need her. She left us too early. <br />
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The fifth one was a cousin of my mother-in-law and husband. I did not know him well. I probably only met him a few times since I have been married. He was a husband and father to 3 children. A son. A brother. And a grandfather to one precious little boy who really needed him. His life ended too soon and he has left a gaping hole in their lives. <br />
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All these people were missed this Christmas. Their absence was felt by many. All these people have friends and family that have to wake up everyday and realize they are still gone. Radio stations still play Christmas music. Children still have to go to school. Bills still have to be paid and dogs still have to be fed. <br />
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I think about these people and I pray for their families. I try to be thankful for the family I have and tell the people in my life how much I love them. <br />
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When things happen like the shooting in Newtown, CT I feel numb. I feel like I cannot even process the hatred and the wrong. The evil that exists. I did not watch any news coverage and I still don't know many of the details. I can't. I can't or I won't be able to drive my boys to school.<br />
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And then I remember that death is not the end of the story. <a href="http://ottercreek.podomatic.com/entry/index/2012-12-23T22_52_39-08_00">Death does not get the last word.</a> <br />
That is our hope. Our only hope. Death does not win.<br />
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I wish you peace and love in 2013.<br />
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<strong>4 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5 Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. 7 And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus</strong><br />
<strong>(Philippians 4)</strong>Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-61055090231802647142012-12-18T17:41:00.000-06:002012-12-18T17:43:44.445-06:00Dawsons go to Disney<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
**I wrote this post a couple months ago and never published. I am trying to post some to finish out 2012. We'll see how it goes.</div>
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We went to Disney for Fall Break this year. We usually go to the beach for a week with my parents, so this was a big decision for us. We waited to take the boys until the were both big enough to: a. ride all the rides b. not need strollers c. not need naps. Wow! We are so glad we waited! They both rode everything! It was wonderful!<br />
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I must admit, John Will and I were both Disney skeptics. We are not big into crowds or the whole Disney-esque world of fabricated atmospheres. We are happy sitting on an uncrowded beach every October. We both love to travel and want to take the boys many places and expose them to different parts of the world. Our parents both did this for us and we really believe it makes for a well-rounded, cultured person. But, Disney was not super high on our list. Our boys have been to New York City, Washington D.C., St. Louis and Atlanta well before Disney.<br />
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But, we bit the dust and went. And it was amazing. It truly was magical. Someone asked me the other day: "Why, Ginger? Why was it so great?" I don't know. I don't know if it was the place we stayed, or the weather, or the low crowds or just the entire experience. I don't know, but it was awesome. It was one big happy-smiling-from the time we got up til the time we went to bed-family vacation.<br />
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This was the view from our balconey at the Polynesian. That is Cinderella's castle across the lake. Every night we could see the castle lit up, hear the music, and see the fireworks display. Two nights we saw the electric boat parade. </div>
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Our first day at Disney was at the Animal Kingdom. (We got to Orlando a day early and went to Legoland first. So, we were there 5 days. 4 days inside the Disney Parks.)</div>
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More days to come.........maybe :)Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-28087788593763269312012-08-07T14:39:00.001-05:002012-08-07T14:39:33.045-05:00Things I Did and Did Not Do This SummerThings I Did do this Summer:<br />
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1. Attended an Atlanta Braves game in 107 degree heat.<br />
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2. Took the boys to see the amazing Treehouse display at Cheekwood.<br />
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3. Listened as Ryan learned to whistle.<br />
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4. Watched in amazement as Will knocked out half a front tooth on a gym floor without crying, or even really flinching. He is now impressed with his "pretty new tooth."<br />
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5. Spent some time at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital when Ryan had his surgery on his arm. Instead of crying or being scared, he charmed the nurses and doctors with his nonchalant attitude and "Ryan charm." He says his favorite part was riding on his "bed with wheels."<br />
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6. Watched with joy as Will finally mastered swimming.<br />
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7. Took the boys to the Frist to see the quilt exhibit. Tried to impart to them what amazing works of art they were seeing. Wished my Grandmama were there with me to see them.<br />
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8. Took the boys to the zoo to see the clouded leopard cubs and the dinosaur trek exhibit (even thoough I openly despise going to the zoo.)<br />
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9. Watched lots of Olympics with my boys. Thrilled that they got to see a man with no legs race in the Olympic games and hope they will remember that the only real disability is in the mind.<br />
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10. Celebrated Will turning 9, JW turning 38, and JW's 20th high school reunion.<br />
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Things I Did not do this Summer:<br />
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1. I did not run. It's too hot.<br />
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2. I did not make my boys do flash cards.<br />
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3. I did not diet, but instead I ate lots of birthday cake and chocolate dipped cones from McDonald's. (Thus proving my 36 year old metabolism just ain't what it used to be.)<br />
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4. I did not get 2 new puppies, but instead took care of my fat, happy, blind 11 year old schnauzer.<br />
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5. I did not wish the summer away. I did not count down the days until school starts. I do not want my boys to start back to school simply because I miss their sweet faces and laughter while they are gone all day. They are my heart and soul and the best part of me.Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-83241408916321126172012-06-26T10:57:00.001-05:002012-06-26T10:57:37.370-05:00Father's Day Picture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTeYF7_NNea9cSrKKHsvbUhpxf5eazDGz9W6yPMEbapPJf00eDwRRDl3e3k0Q7W6a_i5hAYWqs0_UQpOYYfESxI01yNooAIXbH6haaOhDycjEHJXTmwO3m69gXzya5RSfLfc-GY188QvzR/s1600/dad.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTeYF7_NNea9cSrKKHsvbUhpxf5eazDGz9W6yPMEbapPJf00eDwRRDl3e3k0Q7W6a_i5hAYWqs0_UQpOYYfESxI01yNooAIXbH6haaOhDycjEHJXTmwO3m69gXzya5RSfLfc-GY188QvzR/s1600/dad.bmp" /></a></div>
I thought the blog needed a new picture. This was taken on Father's Day. I love it. I have the best Dad in the world and the two sweetest, smartest boys in the whole world!<br />
Happy Summer!Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-61890374179758473442012-03-26T13:20:00.000-05:002012-03-26T17:18:38.302-05:00Panic and the Art of Letting GoOne good (or bad) thing about running is that you have time to think. Sure, I listen to my ipod way too loud but there is also thinking going on beneath the music.<br />
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I did 6 miles Saturday morning and my thoughts started easy and manageable and progressed to pure panic and then back again. </div>
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Much of my running is a prayer. I thanked God for the perfect running conditions; sunny and temp in the 50's. (It doesn't get any better than that.) I thanked God for my health and my ability to get outside and safely run. </div>
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Sometimes thoughts turn self-deprecating when I have to stop and walk. When a woman probably 25 years older than me blows past me going up a hill, I think "what in the world?" Ginger, you should be doing better than this. But, then I remember I'm not in a race and I can usually tune that out. </div>
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Then, I think about how Ryan will turn 6 next Tuesday and all thoughts lose all reason. The panic sets in because (a.) I do not want my baby to turn 6 and (b). He is my baby (c.) This means I am getting older too. Makes perfect sense, right? </div>
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I panic because I think about all the things I have to do before next Tuesday and his birthday party. </div>
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How will I do it all? How will I have time to do this, this, and this and plan his party, and go to baseball, and fit in running and planning meals, and laundry and the other million little errands that have to be done every week. And did I mention he only wants his birthday party at home and I have a gazillion ideas in my head that I want to do but know will never make it out of my head by next week. </div>
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The Virgoan panic of wanting things perfect sets in and so I keep running and eventually I realize: IT'S GOING TO BE OKAY.</div>
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No, I do not want my boys to grow up and leave me. I just don't. But, I can't make them stop growing. </div>
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Yes, it would be great to always have a baby, but that is not my reality. </div>
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No, Ryan's party does not have to be perfect, because guess what? He doesn't care. He just wants his friends to come over to play and eat pizza and cake. </div>
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And so I run. And I run slowly and that's okay too. Because on that beautiful Saturday morning I eventually got rid of the panic and headed over to the baseball fields in time to see my almost 6 yr old Ryan play baseball. The kid hits that ball every time it's thrown to him and runs lightening fast. It's a joy to watch my boys in whatever they are doing. </div>
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Today my Nana turns 80. She has 3 children, 6 grandchildren, and 2 great-grandchildren. She is beautiful, smart, funny and very independent. Maybe growing up isn't all bad. </div>
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</div>Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-59076732027021671792012-03-15T13:00:00.002-05:002012-03-15T13:00:28.999-05:00Washington D.C. part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I finally got blogger working again and uploaded some more pictures. </div>
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Since it is now 80 degrees outside, it is strange to think that less than a month ago we were bundled up in hats, coats, and boots. Crazy middle TN weather!!</div>
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This picture is from the very first day when Ryan didn't want to walk and therefore he was on JW's shoulders with me in the background saying : "see, I told you we should have brought a stroller." But, then he came around and walked the rest of the trip. He was really great. Such a little trooper. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzTnpi8rylJq2uhrwtt8ixZCXxba8tfI-LUV7VGuNJ1ONJtvWjJS7ijkYBUYxZM-VtfrssMlww_drP4PnQOoYK1HxPjItzn37AfN507NUDEfda7bBui9wKG_yuUwHAqtuQyojPKIpC9Jp/s1600/spymus..bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjzTnpi8rylJq2uhrwtt8ixZCXxba8tfI-LUV7VGuNJ1ONJtvWjJS7ijkYBUYxZM-VtfrssMlww_drP4PnQOoYK1HxPjItzn37AfN507NUDEfda7bBui9wKG_yuUwHAqtuQyojPKIpC9Jp/s200/spymus..bmp" width="176" /></a></div>
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This is a picture of us waiting to go into the Spy Museum. It was the only thing we did the whole trip that had an admission fee! It was very cool with lots of neat spy gadgets and history. I would have enjoyed it a million times more had it not been so crowded. It was a small place with lots of nooks and crannies and I just don't do crowded very well. The gift shop was very cool. All the boys got really neat spy kits. Except for Ryan who got a very realistic pair of handcuffs. Scary. </div>
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Right before we left Ryan lost both front teeth. Nothing cuter than a little boy missing his front teeth. </div>
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And here is my Will waiting to get on the Metro.</div>
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D.C.'s subway system is called the Metro. Much cleaner and nicer than the NYC subway system. We only had to ride the Metro the day we went up to Capitol Hill. Much too far of a walk from our hotel. I love subway architecture. I found myself taking lots of pictures of the Metro just like I did in NYC.</div>
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Attempt at group picture at the Capitol</div>
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Air and Space Museum. Boys checking out the Wright Brothers plane</div>
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Arlington was one of my favorite parts of D.C. It was a beautiful, cold day and the place is just so gorgeous and very well tended. This is a shot of Uncle Bob's casket being loaded onto the caisson. (A horse drawn carriage used at funerals.) The rest of us followed in our cars. It was very impressive and moving. </div>
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John Will's Uncle Bob Dawson was buried at Arlington National Cemetery this past Tuesday Feb. 21st. So, we went to Washington D.C. over the long Presidents Day weekend. We went with JW's parents and his sister Gini and her family. We had a great trip. This is what Uncle Bob wanted. All the family to meet in D.C. and be able to enjoy a family vacation. I think he would have been happy. </div>
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The weather cooperated and was sunny and cool most days which was great because we walked everywhere. I am planning to do another post when I can get all my pictures and blogger to cooperate. This is the second time I have typed out this post. More pictures to come soon....</div>
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Boys at Nashville airport waiting to board the plane</div>
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All four cousins at the White House welcome center before we toured the White House.</div>
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Taking a rest at the Lincoln Memorial after walking all the way up the Mall from the Washington Monument</div>
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Lincoln</div>
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Capitol Visitors Center</div>
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JW and boys standing on steps of the Supreme Court</div>
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Capitol Dome</div>
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<br /></div>Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-81157183831598825812012-02-06T18:26:00.002-06:002012-02-06T19:54:46.556-06:00Sweet Sara Walker<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/sarawalker">http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/sarawalker</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtsDuHukk-bgvQcEmpTUy90R8W9KMpV39N7S00NyYrsbOKySClUztNRxUrG0GdcuoZSaTTfn-CDhL9dsp3rx23UgGMI7z7rDUdxx7GkqINV93KNMvlP9jQEKTXvVJRj4RovcWUqNOZxpW/s1600/sara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="241px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtsDuHukk-bgvQcEmpTUy90R8W9KMpV39N7S00NyYrsbOKySClUztNRxUrG0GdcuoZSaTTfn-CDhL9dsp3rx23UgGMI7z7rDUdxx7GkqINV93KNMvlP9jQEKTXvVJRj4RovcWUqNOZxpW/s320/sara.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If you don't know the story of sweet Sara Walker, then keep reading. She is a 34 yr old mother and wife. She has two precious boys and one beautiful little girl (Anna) already in heaven because she was (full term) stillborn. About a month after Anna was born, Sara found out she had colon cancer. She has chronicled her story on her Caringbridge site which I have included a link to above. Her life is a testimony to the love of Jesus Christ. Grab a cup of coffee and start reading at the beginning. Your life will never be the same after reading her journal. I felt a strange connection to Sara the very first time I heard about her story. I have gotten to know her and have fallen in love with her along with the rest of the world. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Please keep her in your prayers as she continues to fight for complete healing and also continues to spread the Gospel. I am convinced she will someday be a household name! She plans to continue to write and spread the good news of our Lord and Savior in a big way!</div>Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-652870518580605372.post-68226925333044879032012-01-13T11:19:00.001-06:002012-01-13T11:25:01.585-06:00UpdateQuick update on Greta: <br />
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She is doing so much better! I am so pleased to be able to say this, because she was one day away from being cut open for exploratory surgery and biopsies. I will spare you the details, but her digestive tract seems much healthier! I am so glad we did not put her through surgery and anesthesia. She is still blind as a bat and I have had to fish her out of the pond once, but other than that she gets around pretty good.<br />
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The weeks leading up to Christmas were pretty hard on me thinking we were going to have to put her to sleep. I did not get as much done as I had hoped I would, but that's life sometimes, right? <br />
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We are back in the swing of life here in 2012 and I am trying, unsuccessfully, to organize the house and my life.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZleNZab3XIXFRNXWDmwtzmtpmp7GnFsIwk9-Kjer5O4SVr8CQ3FTxTJA0GcTWePeagatlJlB_WpNakFinLtgdDYT6LAVNdi4gb7-q0fx7YJbj9jgFY1hxXDZ99NGT1irTqdS3mz71r_x/s1600/DSC_2775.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228px" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimZleNZab3XIXFRNXWDmwtzmtpmp7GnFsIwk9-Kjer5O4SVr8CQ3FTxTJA0GcTWePeagatlJlB_WpNakFinLtgdDYT6LAVNdi4gb7-q0fx7YJbj9jgFY1hxXDZ99NGT1irTqdS3mz71r_x/s320/DSC_2775.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">My boys love playing Angry Birds. I have never once played it and find the music annoying. Apparently, I am in the minority since it is extremely popular all over the world. Will made these out of a set of clay he got for Christmas. I thought the detail was pretty amazing. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Both boys are doing great in school and continue to love going every day. I am so thankful for our school and our amazing teachers. My respect for teachers continues to grow as I witness what an important and difficult job they have. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">I still teach my 2 year olds on Sunday mornings and have just started a new Beth Moore Bible study on Wednesday nights. I have signed up for the half marathon again in April, so I will soon have to start running seriously again. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We are planning a trip to Washington D.C. in February because John Will's Uncle Bob passed away and is being buried at Arlington National Cemetary. This is a blog post all by itself, but I just mention it now because it will take much planning and preparation between now and when we leave. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Life is good and we are blessed. God is good all the time. <br />
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(P.S. The reason I have time to sit and type out this long post is b/c it is a snow day here and Ryan had the stomach virus last night. So, we aren't going anywhere today.)</div>Gingerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10804983476463255459noreply@blogger.com1