Tag Archives: daughter

01

Aug. ’13

34

“God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well.”
– Voltaire

Today, August 1, 2013, is the last day that I will ever be 34 years old.

As you get older, birthdays don’t seem to hold the same significance that they did when you were younger. Have you noticed that? You don’t really “look forward” to them anymore. In fact, at some point, they become something that you even somewhat dread. (Another year older!? Really??) But I have decided that, starting this year, I’m going to put a stop to that nonsense.

As I prepare to turn the page to 35, I’m going to take a moment to look back over the year I was 34. The good, the bad – everything notable that took place during my time on this earth as a 34-year-old. Each year holds special moments that are gone in the blink of an eye – moments that we will never get back and can only be relived through memories. They should be cherished and appreciated and yes, even celebrated – the bad, along with the good. But most important of all, they should be noticed.  For these are the moments that make us who we are – the moments that shape and mold us into the awesome, unique individuals that comprise humanity, and that give each of us our own story to tell.

So, here’s mine.

Please join me as I look back over the 34 most notable events of my 34th year (in no particular order):

1. I started a blog.  I had toyed with the idea for years, but I finally got up the courage to do it this year.  And it has been AMAZING!  If you’re reading this, you’re one of the reasons why.  I’m blown away by how many people read this thing and by all the responses I have gotten from it.  From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

2. I got my first writing award (and check!).  I got up the nerve to enter a local writing contest and was shocked to get a letter in the mail saying that I had won first place in the essay category.  Woohoo!
checkpic

3. I got my first rejection letter. Yep.  A real-life “your stuff isn’t what we’re looking for” letter.  And you know what?  I actually thought it was kind of cool.  Really.  You’re not a real writer until you get a rejection.  Initiation complete.

4. I saw Niagara Falls.  And it was AWESOME!
388893_3851669933053_1593858915_n

5. I saw my first marathon.  A group of us traveled to New York for the Wineglass Marathon.  Many in the group were running the marathon, some running the half marathon, and some, like myself, were just there to watch.  There was NOTHING like it.  One of my favorite running-related quotes of all time: “If you lose faith in humanity, go watch a marathon.” – Kathrine Switzer.  There is so much truth to that.  The feeling of camaraderie and “oneness” between the runners and spectators alike was something that I don’t even know how to put into words.  This was definitely one of the highlights of my 34th year, hands down.
285151_3844595996209_18568332_n

6. I ran a 5K in New York, and got my personal best time of 30:55.  The day before the marathon, there was a 5k as part of the festivities surrounding the event.  I decided to run it in, and ended up getting my best personal 5K time.  My boyfriend captured this picture at the very moment that I looked up and saw the time clock at the finish line.  I just love it.  The picture says it all.  It was nice to feel so proud of myself.
255410_3844597916257_182634293_n

7. My son joined the cross country team at school.  This was such great news to me.  I was so proud of him, and felt like my running had made an influence on that decision.  Since joining the team, he has gone on to race in a few races with me, and place in many of them (including a 3rd place overall finish for one of them!).  I’m such a proud mom.
jefftrack

8. I ran my first 10k.  Shortly after returning from the New York trip, I knew that I couldn’t stop at 5Ks.  It was time to start training for longer distances.  My first 10K was a trail run, and I ran it with my son.  I wasn’t fast, but I was very proud.  And it was the first time that the thought entered my mind that I might even be able to go further than that.  Which brings me to #9..

9. I ran my first half-marathon.   Wow.  All of my hard work paid off and I crossed that finish line with possibly more pride in myself than I had ever felt before.  Not too shabby for a 34-year-old, if I don’t say so myself.
racecollage4
(Here’s the blog entry about the half marathon if you’d like to read more: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/05/04/i-did-it/)

10. I watched my boyfriend Richard be inducted as the Master of the Ashe Masonic Lodge #594.  This was actually very, very cool.  I had never seen anything like this ceremony (I’m a chick – we’re not allowed, ya know), and I admit that I went into it thinking that the rituals and secrecy were somewhat silly.  But I came away with a deeper understanding of how much this fellowship means to those men, and what good, kind, noble men each and every one of them are.  I was so incredibly proud to be Richard’s girlfriend that day.  I won’t forget it anytime soon.
Master Mason Ceremony

11. I started attending a new church. My boyfriend and I, along with our kids, have started attending Bethany United Methodist Church.  It has been nice to feel like a part of a church family again.  I needed that.

12. I moved. I finally took the plunge and moved out of a place that I was unhappy at.  It has made all the difference in the world.  It’s such a great feeling to actually look forward to going home for a change.  Definitely a noteworthy event from my 34th year.

13. We lost our pet, Chicago.  Little Chicago was something else.  While just a kitten, my daughter found him in an old trash can outside our home.  He had been hurt badly (we still don’t know by what – or whom), and could not move his hind legs.  Kelly carried him around like a baby for weeks, feeding him milk from a tiny measuring spoon and giving him little kitty pain pills that an animal-loving friend of ours had provided.  I just knew the little guy wasn’t going to make it, but alas – he surprised us all.  He was with us for four years.  I pretended like I didn’t like the little guy (he had THE MOST annoying meow in the world), but I feel his loss more than I ever thought I would have.  We miss you, annoying little Chicago.  You were loved.
chicago

14. I saw my grandma turn 83. Such a spry, spunky little Grandma she is too.
IMG_20130721_184315_126

15. I lost another grandparent. My grandpa, Paul Pridemore (who we all referred to as “Mr. P.”) passed away during my 34th year.  Mr. P. lived a long, happy, healthy 96 years on this earth and will be missed by everyone who knew him.  I’ll bet he wasn’t the type to dread another birthday.  He served as a good example to live life to the fullest while we’re here.  I hope I’ll live to make him proud.
421622_10200172984750150_828719165_n

16. I ran the path that my other grandpa, Greene Halsey, had walked to school.  This is something that I had wanted to do for a long time, and finally did it during my 34th year.  I’ll post the link to the blog if you’d like to read more about it.  I was very proud to have finally done this.   https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/02/25/uphill-both-ways/

17. I sang in public for the first time (sort of).  Ok, so technically, I had done this before in musicals.  And at karaoke.  But getting up and singing with my boyfriend at one of his gigs was SO nerve-wracking.  I couldn’t believe I had the courage to get up there.  It was hard – and I was shaking like a leaf – but I did it.  And have done it a few more times since.  Definitely a noteworthy moment from age 34.
735146_4318994015863_1974010880_n

18. I lost Richard. Definitely not one of the happiest moments of age 34, but noteworthy nonetheless.  Richard and I split up for 2 months.  We both tried to move on, but we found our way back (thank God).  I think we both grew up more during those 2 months than we had in a long time.  Sometimes you just have to travel alone for a while (whether you want to or not) to find out what’s really important.  And I definitely found out what was important.  Him.  I’m so glad he’s back.

19. I witnessed two little miracles.  I saw the tiniest babies I had ever seen in my life – and they belonged to my sister.  Her twins were born 10 weeks too early.  Not many things have affected my life like seeing those tiny little healthy human beings.  I’m so amazed at the technology that we have now that allowed for these two to survive.

Here they were then:
twins

And here they are now:
twins2
(Again, if you’d like to check out the blog post about these little angels, here’s the link: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/04/03/week-old-miracles/)

If the 33-year-old Melissa didn’t believe in miracles, this 34-year-old Melissa sure as heck does.

20. I was the subject of a blog. My boyfriend and I were interviewed for a very public blog that was read by tons of people.  How cool is that?!  Definitely the first time that has ever happened.  I was famous for a day!

Links:  (Here’s the link to the actual blog: http://www.8womendream.com/55851/improve-womens-self-esteem / And here’s the link to my own blog post about the blog: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/05/22/self-image-part-2/)

21. I was on TV. Yep.  My first TV appearance.  I was interviewed for an art segment of a local channel regarding the role I was playing in an upcoming production.  Awesomeness.  Another first occurring in year 34.  (blog link: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/03/12/fear/)

22. I starred in my first lead female role with Ashe County Little Theatre.  I was so proud to have been cast as Mother in the show Life With Father.  It took me a long time to become a part of this theatre, and this was such a monumental moment for me.  I will remember it always.  (Plus, my boyfriend’s son Riley got to play as one of my sons. Added bonus.)
150470_4735269062479_550350894_n

23. My daughter starred in her first lead role ever.  I have been involved in theatre for pretty much my whole life, but I never knew the meaning of “nervous” until I felt what I felt just before the curtain rose on opening night of Annie.  Watching my baby girl stepping on to the stage in the title role was beyond anything I’ve ever felt before.  I was so incredibly proud of her.  Not only for her ability, but for her poise and humility throughout the production.  This kid is going to go places.  Mark my word.
print8
(Related blog post: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/06/26/tomorrow/)

24. Lost a friend.  Although I don’t count this as one of the highlights of my 34th year, I had a falling out with a very close friend.  Looking back, I’m not so sure the problem was worth ending a friendship over (is it ever?), but it happened nonetheless.  And it should be noted in this list.  Perhaps I can come back with an update in year 35 that this has been mended?  Perhaps.  Either way.  Friendship lost – duly noted on the list – moving along…

25. Mended a friendship.  While we’re on the topic, I might as well mention that I regained a friend in my 34th year.  This is a story that I hope to tell in a future blog, but for now, I’ll just say that it’s nice to have found my old friend again.  And to know all is well.  Everything always works out ok in the end, right?  Chris, I’m glad you’re back.
SANYO DIGITAL CAMERA

26. Ran my first obstacle race. The Warrior Dash.  *sigh*  I don’t even have the energy to talk about this one anymore.  If you want to read about it, I’ll post the link.  You probably don’t though.  It was NOT the best experience.  But good or bad, it made the “34” list, so I guess it was notable.
warriordashpic3
(Blog link: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/06/03/warrior-dash-or-as-i-like-to-call-it-hell/)

27. Richard and I introduced each other to the fam. That’s a big deal.  We were each thrown into the big, loud, happy mix at each other’s family get-togethers over the holidays, and then in a few events (some sad, some happy) since then.  Nothing makes you feel like a “real” couple more than getting included in the family (dis)functions. 😉
382139_540268712652980_1785226771_n

28. We took our first ‘family’ trip to the beach.  Richard’s family has this super cool tradition that spans the years (starting even before he was born) of all getting together to go to Myrtle Beach once a year.  It’s a glorified family reunion, if you will.  And this year, my kids and I were included.  And that’s awesome.  It meant so much to me to be included in something so special, and is definitely noteworthy in my 34 list.
1009771_10200346858776892_1300652980_n

29. Made it through a cancer scare. I was a basket case during the fall of my 34th year.  We found a lump on my son’s neck that wouldn’t go away.  17 years ago, the same thing had happened to me when I was just a few years older than he was.  And I had Hodgkin’s lymphoma.  After excruciating weeks of waiting and worrying, a surgery was finally scheduled to remove the lump from his neck and have it tested.  And – thank God – it was benign.  There is no worry like that of a mother for her child.  I gained a new appreciation and understanding for my own mother through this ordeal, and I hope to never have to go through anything like it again.
111612075620

30. Got a standing ovation – mid-show.  Now, THAT was cool.  Of course, I was playing Elvis (sort of).  And I sang Heartbreak Hotel.  And I looked like this:
543807_4352012561306_365026006_n
But still.  Standing ovations mid-show just don’t happen.  That was definitely one for the 34 list.  Hands down.

31. Went to an AWESOME wedding. Now, you know if a wedding made the list, it must have kicked butt.  Well…it did.  That was the most fun I have had in a while.  It was theatre-themed and full of people I love – how could you go wrong?  I even blogged about it. (https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/05/13/completion/)
melissa2
Thanks Jim & Rebecca for giving us these memories to cherish.

32. Visited the house Richard lived in when he was born.  We took a little detour on the way back while we were in New York for the marathon, and swung by to take a look at the house that Richard lived in for the first six months of his life.  It was the first time he had seen it since.  That was a pretty cool moment.  Very sentimental.  I was proud to be able to tag along for that moment.  That was a good “age 34” memory.
155251_4689990732439_1359561351_n

33. 4-mile Abingdon race with my son.  Now, why did this make my list?  Sure, I’ve run plenty of races by now – and quite a few of them with my son.  But there was just something about this one.  Most notably, when my son finished the race (well ahead of me, of course), he turned around and came back on the track to find me, and finished with me.  It would be pretty difficult to leave that moment off of the top 34 list.  Have I mentioned that I’m a proud momma??  (Blog post: https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/03/17/favorite-race-so-far/)
raceblog3jeff

And finally.  We’ve reached #34.  I saved what I felt was the most notable event for last.  (And incidentally, if you’ve made it this far – I’m impressed.)

34. I was in a car accident.  In April of my 34th year, I was in a pretty bad car accident.  I totaled my car but, miraculously, walked away with only a few scratches.  You don’t come away from something like that without some sort of “indention” on your life.  It leaves a mark.  The only thing that remained intact from my accident, besides myself, was my drivers side mirror.  I found the mirror at the accident site days later, and took it home as a reminder.  True to my word (as I mentioned in a blog post shortly after –  https://missyspublicjunk.wordpress.com/2013/04/08/reflection/), I keep this mirror beside my bed on my nightstand.  I feel like it serves a reminder that I’m still here.  I’m still here.  Life didn’t stop at 34.  And there’s probably a reason for that.

And I fully intend to spend the rest of my time here on earth figuring out exactly what that is.

891739_4792287767911_1087211727_o

So, thank you.  Thank you, reader, for taking this trip down memory lane with me.  You know – you would think that it would be hard to come up with 34 things over a year that were notable, wouldn’t you?  But I actually found myself having to weed some out. Isn’t that crazy?  It’s amazing how much you realize actually happens in your world when you sit down and take the time to pull each event out and shine a light of remembrance on it.  We should do this more often, shouldn’t we?

Goodbye, 34.  You were awesome.

Hello, 35.  You ready?  We’ve got a lot of work to do. Let’s get started.

***

“The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate.”
– Oprah Winfrey

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 4 Comments

26

Jun. ’13

Tomorrow

Well, it’s here!

annie2

Tomorrow night is finally opening night for ANNIE!  And I couldn’t let this day go by without a blog shout-out to my daughter, Kelly.  Tomorrow night, she will walk out onto a stage in front of a room full of people and say her first spoken line in a show ever.

Her first spoken line.  And she’s Annie!

I am blown away by the transformation I’ve seen in my little girl over the past few months of Annie rehearsals.  This is the girl who only showed up for auditions in hopes of possibly being one of the orphans (hopefully with no spoken lines), or maybe even just to help backstage like she has done in a few shows in the past.  When she was cast as Annie, she was almost in tears.  And not the happy kind either.  I’m talking more along the lines of the “Oh-my-gosh-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into-help-momma-get-me-out-of-this” kind.

And I’ll be honest with you.  I wasn’t so sure she could do it either.

Now, don’t get me wrong – I absolutely knew she was capable of it.  The girl has got a beautiful singing voice and can dance like nobody’s business.  And she looks the part, without a doubt.  But to have the courage to get up in front of all of these people and act?  I just wasn’t so sure.  She’s always been a “behind the scenes” kind of kid when it came to theatre.  I was the actor and she was the kid who would tag along with her mom to watch.

I remember taking her to her first professional theatre show (which was Annie, no less – at Barter Theatre in Abingdon, Virginia).  At one point, after being mesmerized myself by the phenomenal performance taking place in front of me, I glanced over to see Kelly’s reaction to the show.  And what was she doing?  The little thing was turned around backwards in her seat staring up at the lighting booth and the spotlight operator.  She was so much more interested in how they were making the show, rather than the show itself.  Yep, she loved theatre – but in a much different way than her momma did.  She wasn’t just interested in the acting.  She fell in love with the process.

And now here she is – the lead role in the summer musical.

It still seems so surreal to me.  It has been amazing watching her come out of her shell.  She didn’t just peep her head out from the shadows to see what was happening on the stage.  She made a huge, flying leap right into the spotlight.  And let me tell you – this is where she belongs.  And I think she’s starting to see that too.  All she needed was a little confidence.

And this brings me to the point I’m really trying to make with all of this.

print3I’m so incredibly proud of my daughter.  I mean, what mom wouldn’t be?  But that pride doesn’t come from the fact that she’s Annie.  Yes, she has learned to control her beautiful voice and sing songs that she thought she couldn’t manage just a few short months ago.  Yes, she has studied hard and learned her lines and rarely misses a beat.  Yes, she has done all of the things that make her a great little actress and has come a very long way since that scared little girl was given the news that she was going to be Annie.  But none of that is what makes me the most proud.

What makes me the most proud is watching as her confidence and ability soars to new heights, and yet her ego and humility have not budged.

She is the most gracious, most appreciative kid I think I’ve ever seen.  She takes compliments from people with a shy sweetness that does not indicate one little ounce of arrogance.  She sent out a mass email to the cast and crew last night thanking everyone for their hard work – from the make-up ladies to the costume maker and everyone in between.  She has learned first hand how much work it takes to create something this spectacular, and she appreciates each and every minute detail that has been put into making the show a success.  That’s something a lot of actors never take the time to see.  (I know I’ve been guilty of it myself at times.  Too often, actually.)

To excel at something, even attain a bit of greatness at it, and yet still maintain a humble heart?  That is something that is very hard to do.  It takes a special kind of person for that.  I think we could all learn a lesson or two from my little Annie.

And, in closing, I want to mention one more proud momma moment.

I too am in the show.  And last night – our second-to-last dress rehearsal before opening night – I felt completely miserable.  What is probably an ear and sinus infection (who has time or money to go to the doctor?) hit its peak last night and my body refused to cooperate any further.  For the first time in my career as an actor, I had to miss a dress rehearsal.  I couldn’t leave, of course, since I was little Annie’s ride home – so someone suggested that I go lie down on a couch in the lobby.  So, I did.  I took my feverish self to the lobby and crashed.  And no sooner did I lie down, than I was out like a light.  I only woke up about three times during the entire performance.  And you know why?

Once was when Kelly was bringing me a drink of water.

Another time was when she brought a blanket she found in the dressing room to put over me.

And the final time was when she came to tell me the show was over and that it was time to go home.

There she was in one of her final dress performances in her first starring role, and yet she took every down moment she had between her many costume changes and stage appearances, to come check on her sick mom.

Have I mentioned how proud I am of my daughter?  I want to be just like her when I grow up.

I know every mom is supposed to brag on our kids.  It’s our job.  But in my case?  In my case, I’ve got someone pretty special here that calls me Mommy.  She is definitely a star – on and off the stage.

So, break a leg, sweet girl!  It’s your turn to shine.

***

“It must have been cold there in my shadow
To never have sunlight on your face
You were content to let me shine, that’s your way
You always walked a step behind
So I was the one with all the glory,
while you were the one with all the strength.
A beautiful face without a name for so long.
A beautiful smile to hide the pain
Did you ever know that you’re my hero?
You’re everything I wish I could be
I can fly higher than an eagle
Because you are the wind beneath my wings.”
– Bette Midler, Wind Beneath My Wings

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 2 Comments

28

May. ’13

Dress the Part

I noticed something interesting the other day.

This is my daughter, Kelly.

dresspartblog

This picture was taken on the day of her 7th grade graduation.  We curled her hair, she had a little makeup on, wore a cute little dress…she was looking pretty darn spiffy.  Well, later that evening, she and I had to be at theatre rehearsal.  (She was cast as Annie in our local theatre’s upcoming production – if you haven’t already heard me mention that about 3,000 times. I’m just a little bit proud.)  She still had her hair curled, still had the little dress on, etc.  And something interesting happened.  When she stepped on that stage that night, she did the best she had ever done.

Now, granted, my daughter is capable of playing this role.  She is beyond capable.  But with this being her first large role (first speaking role, even), she’s a bit nervous and a little reserved.  Up to this point, she hadn’t found her ‘sea legs,’ so to speak.  But by golly, she was swimming that night.  That girl was spot on.  I saw more spunk and confidence than I had seen thus far.

After rehearsal, I told her what a great job she had done and asked what made her come alive like she did.  She said, “I don’t know.  I had my hair all curly and a dress on…I guess I just felt like Annie.”

“I guess I just felt like Annie.”

Kinda profound when you think about it.  She dressed the part, so she felt like the part.  Simple as that.

So, how does that apply to the rest of us?

Granted, I know we’re not all title characters in a musical.  Most of us are just out here floating about in our regular everyday lives trying to make it through the day without any major catastrophes.  But I think I just learned a pretty good lesson from my 13-year-old daughter.  Whatever I want (need?) to be, I just have to “dress the part.”

Let’s take my running for example.  Now, I’ve heard a lot of runners have mentioned this before so I’m not alone in this thought process.  Sometimes I just don’t feel like running.  I just don’t.  I know I need to, I know I’ll feel good when it’s over, but none of that matters.  I’m just tired and I don’t feel like it.  But as soon as I put on my running clothes and running shoes…suddenly, I’m transformed.  I went from a lazy bum on the couch who didn’t feel like doing anything at all, to an all-out runner who is raring to go.  It’s that simple.  I dress like a runner, so I feel like a runner.

Now, that’s a literal example.  But maybe this can be applied in a not-so-literal way.  Maybe it’s not always an outfit.

Maybe if you want to be a certain thing, you just have to pretend like you are that thing.  You know?

You want to be happy?  Dress the part.  Slap on a smile and be happy.  The first time you do it, you may just feel dumb…smiling for no reason like that like a big dummy.  But the second time you do it, who knows?  You might actually start to feel a little better.  The third?  Maybe even better.  Eventually your smiles will not only fool other people into thinking that you’re actually happy…you might even start to fool yourself.  How about that?

Dress the part.

You want to forgive someone who hurt you?  Act like you have.  Seriously.  Just act like that.  When those negative thoughts pop into your mind, tell yourself that that person is forgiven.  You don’t have to mean it.  Just say it.  Again – at first, it will feel silly.  You’ll feel like a liar.  But the next time?  Maybe it will feel like a little less of a lie.  The next time?  Even less.  Eventually, maybe it just might not be a lie.  Maybe it’ll even become the truth.

Maybe you can put on that little imaginary cloak of forgiveness and finally – finally – just move on.

Dress the part.

Fill in the blank with whatever you need to fill it in with.  You want to be a more positive person?  Act like you’re a positive person.  You want to be a better friend?  Be a better friend.  You want to trust someone?  Trust them.

You want to love someone?  Love them.

Dress the part.

Start with baby steps.  Then bigger steps.  Then keep increasing your stride until you’re moving at full speed.

YOU alone have the power to change everything.

***

“Endeavor to be what you desire to appear.”
– Socrates

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 1 Comment

24

May. ’13

Winds of Change

winds of change

The winds of change.  *Sigh*  They sure do seem to be blowing quite a bit in my world here lately.  Am I building walls or windmills?  Good question.

So, here are some examples of a few of the changes.

Example #1

Yesterday, I watched my beautiful little daughter ‘graduate’ the 7th grade.  See?  Isn’t she gorgeous?

changeblog1

Where we live, high school starts in 8th grade.  So as of today, I’m officially the mother of two high school students.  Wow.  Talk about change.  Where has the time gone?  That little freckled-face kid is a beautiful young woman.  How did that happen??

Example #2

I’m moving.  Ugh.  Moving is a big fat giant pain the butt, even when it’s for the best.  I’ve done it a million times in my life for various reasons, but it just never gets any easier.  Packing up your life and moving it somewhere else is just plain difficult.  Especially when you’re like me.  I don’t just throw things in a box – I go through them.  Each and every single thing, one by one.  And sometimes that can be a little painful.  Those things that are collecting dust in a box in the corner are there for a reason.  Stirring them up is not always the best idea.  But there are times that it has to be done, and unfortunately, this is one of them.

So…me and my feather duster have some work to do.

Example #3

This is a picture of my beautiful little grandparents taken just a few months ago at my aunt’s house where they were staying for a while until decisions were made about their care.

pic1

And this is the picture my daughter took this past weekend of my mom and I at my grandpa’s bedside in the nursing home.

nursinghome

Between pneumonia, dementia, and advanced age, changes have hit them and our family in what seems like the drop of a hat.  Walking through their empty house this past weekend (cleared out in preparation to sell for their care), I couldn’t help but feel the change all around me.  And watching my mother and her sisters as they took care of all the details, my heart just broke for them.

Change, man.  It can be rough.  I’m tellin’ ya.

I could go on and on listing various little life changes, but I won’t.  Not all are as poignant as aging grandparents and lost childhood, but they’re everywhere.  Life is all about change.  That’s no secret.  We all know that.  And knowing it doesn’t really make it any easier, does it?

But maybe we need to look at that just a little differently.

Yes, life is all about change.  But isn’t change also all about life?

Think about it.  As long as things are changing, then you’re still alive.  You’re still on this crazy ride.  Your heart is still beating.  You’re still laughing, crying, living, losing, loving.  While change can be difficult, it’s so important to remember that it’s happening for a reason.

Yes, my baby girl is growing up.  That’s a good thing.  She’ll never crawl into my lap with her baby dolls again, but she’ll go on to have her own little girl to crawl into her lap.  It’s life.  And it’s beautiful.

Yes, I’m digging through old memories during the stress of a move.  But in doing so, I’m also getting rid of some of the old baggage that might have been weighing me down.  And I’m deciding what needs to remain and packing it up for another day.  I’m simplifying my life and moving on to better things, a little lighter in the process.

Yes, my grandparents are in a different phase of their life.  And it’s very, very hard on the rest of us.  But it is strengthening bonds in the ones left behind.  Some of the family is banding together and taking care of what needs to be taken care of.  They are sharing their sorrows, helping each other through.  Coming together at a time when they need each other.  Showing their strengths in the midst of others’ weakness.  And when the inevitable time comes that my grandparents pass on, they will do so knowing that the ones who truly loved them took care of them in the end.

Yes, change sure is hard sometimes.  But – if things are changing, you’re still breathing.  See it for what it is, embrace it, do the best you can with what life is handing you, and just keep moving forward.

Let’s build some windmills, shall we?

***

“Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes.  Don’t resist them – that only creates sorrow.  Let reality be reality.  Let things flow naturally forward in whatever way they like.”
-Lao Tzu

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 1 Comment

17

May. ’13

Reinforcement

“I love working with an audience.  I love working with actual people who, you know, if they’re moved, you see it.  If you say something they’re stunned by, you see their jaws drop.  If they’re amused, they laugh – that kind of reinforcement, I totally adore.”
– Jane Pauley

As an actress, I really dig the above quote.  There’s just so much truth to it.  When I’m doing a show, I know exactly how the audience feels about it.  If they like it, they’ll smile.  If I did a good job, they’ll clap.  If I was able to move them to tears, they’ll cry.

Don’t you wish it worked like in real life?

Seriously, think about it.  How much of what you feel do you keep inside?  How many chances do you let slip past to tell someone how their everyday, real life ‘performance’ is going?

I’ve been watching my daughter struggle with a very large theatre role.  She’s practically brand new to acting (only small non-speaking roles in prior shows) and has now been cast as the lead.  Now, you don’t have to be involved in theatre to know that being the lead of a show is going to carry some serious weight with it.  Especially when you’re only 13.  And even more especially when you’re a kid who is too hard on yourself like she is.  She expects perfection to come out on the first try (and I’m afraid some of the others involved expect that of her to), and she gets so down on herself when it doesn’t.  Poor kid.

But I’ve started to notice one particular person in the cast who can change her outlook around in an instant.  Appropriately enough, that person is the one who plays “Daddy Warbucks.”  (If you’re not familiar with the show, Warbucks is the one who ultimately adopts little orphan Annie in the end.)  Warbucks is played by our friend Jeff Dreyer.  And let me tell ya – Jeff is phenomenal with my daughter.  She looks forward to the rehearsals when she’s working with him because she is comfortable with him.  He’s so good to her and always tells her what a great job she is doing.  When she makes a mistake, he’s always quick with a, “You’ll get it next time,” or “Don’t be so hard on yourself – you’re doing great.”  I see what a difference this makes in her, and how much better she does after hearing this from him.

Which got me thinking.

How often do we do that for people?  How often do I do that for people?

Someone doesn’t have to be performing on a stage for them to deserve positive feedback.  So much of what those around us do in any given day sadly goes unnoticed.  Things become routine and expected, and therefore no longer outwardly appreciated.  (Every mother knows where I’m coming from, I’m sure.)

So, I want you to think about this.  Is there someone in your life who deserves some recognition?  Some appreciation?  Some verbal applause?

Well, get to it.  Give them some positive reinforcement.  Give them a pat on the back.  Thank them for what they do for you and how much they mean to you.

I’ll start by giving a little shout-out to my boyfriend, Richard.  That man is a true saint at times…especially this week.  I have been stressed to the max.  There’s no one particular huge problem or anything…just a multitude of small things that are adding up and sending me on an emotional rampage.  There have been times this week that I’ve just wanted to crawl under the covers and let the world go on without me while I take a sick day from it all.  But I can’t.  There’s too many people depending on me.  I have to get up and keep moving, whether I like it or not.

And there he is to help.

He has picked up the slack for me so much this week, I can’t even list them all.  He has made phone calls for me and run errands that I didn’t have time to run.  And through it all – through my moods, my ranting, my venting – he has listened and responded with a calm optimism that I can’t help but be influenced by, no matter how hard my stubborn self tries not to be.  I’m a very, VERY lucky girl to have this man in my life.  I hope he knows how much he is appreciated.  I hope he knows what a wonderful boyfriend he is, and how loved he makes me feel.

Good job, Richard.

So, who do you need to thank?  Who makes a difference in your world?  Who needs some applause?

Now is the time.

positive1

***

“Appreciation is a wonderful thing: It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well.”
-Voltaire

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

17

Apr. ’13

Little Things

“You need to let the little things that would ordinarily bore you suddenly thrill you.”
– Andy Warhol

(Let me start this blog with a disclaimer to my child.  No, Kelly – this is not a tribute to One Direction and their song of the same title.  Sorry, kid.)

Ok.  Back to business.

Little things.

I’ve been thinking about this topic a lot recently.  Especially over these past few days.  A variety of “little things” have seemed to catch my attention more lately than they might normally do.

For instance.

I went to visit my grandparents in the nursing home this past weekend.  They have both been recently admitted after battling pneumonia and, unfortunately, the prognosis is not a great one for my 96-year-old grandfather.  Thankfully, they have been placed in the same room so they can spend this time together, although my grandmother’s failing memory makes it hard for her to understand what is happening.  But even with his sickness, and her failing memory, they both periodically asked about the other and looked over to be sure the other was still there.  To me, that was beautiful.  A glance to make sure the one you love is still by your side?  Yes, a little thing in the grand scheme.  But so very beautiful.

Also, while I was there, it was mentioned that my grandmother’s fingernails needed cutting and she hadn’t been able to do it herself.  So, I cut them.  Cutting your aging grandmother’s fingernails? Definitely a little thing.  But it meant something to me.  In my tiny little way, I was able to help.  Little things.

I watched my cousin Amy feeding my grandfather.

littlethingsblog

Putting a spoon to someone’s mouth when they aren’t strong enough to do it on their own? Yes, maybe a little thing. But is it so little? I think not.

Aside from the trip to visit my grandparents (and possibly because of it), other little things started catching my attention as well.

The man I love, for instance.

Now, for those of you don’t know us personally, let me start by explaining something.  I am in love with the quietest man alive.  It’s true.  The spoken word is not his speciality.  One of his favorite quotes is by Mark Twain: “It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”  Smart man.  Me, on the other hand?  I never shut up.  We are the proverbial Mutt and Jeff of verbal communication. Well, in public anyway.

But for the past few days, I seem to be “hearing” him much more clearly than I ever have before.

I’ve mentioned in previous blogs that he is letting me borrow a vehicle until I can get the insurance mess sorted out from my wreck and can get a new one.  Earlier this week, the vehicle started overheating a little.  So, what does he do?  Gives me his own truck to drive to work so that he can keep it and check to see what’s wrong.  He then fixes it and returns it – with new windshield wipers to boot because it was a rainy day.  Little things?  Maybe.

After dinner one night while the kids played together, I was overwhelmed with a sudden feeling of exhaustion.  Usually I immediately start clearing the table after we eat (he cooks, so it’s the least I can do), but instead I asked if he’d mind if I went and laid down for a bit.  Not only did he not mind, but he came and laid with me.  We both ended up falling asleep and my daughter got this sweet picture of us:

littlethingsblog2

A nap together as a break from a busy day?  A little thing?  Maybe.

Another example – Mondays are hectic for me now.  My daughter was cast as Annie in our local production and I am a chorus member.  We have rehearsals on Mondays and she also has dance class on Mondays.  It’s hard to be in all these places at the same time, mind you.  So, what does that man of mine do?  Helps.  He picked her up from dance and brought her back to rehearsal so that I didn’t have to leave during chorus rehearsal.  And this followed him keeping her for me over the weekend so I was able to visit my grandparents like I mentioned before.

Little things? 

I’m telling you.  Pay attention.  Those little things speak loudly if you train your ears to hear them.

A few more before I wrap up.

I ran 11 miles yesterday in honor of all who were affected by the Boston marathon bombings.  It was my longest distance to date as a runner.  I wore my printed-out Boston runner’s bib in tribute.  While on the run, a fellow runner saw my bib as he was passing, and reached out and high-fived me.  A high-five from a stranger?  Definitely a little thing, but it sure had a big impact.  (Before the run was over, I got a few car honks as well.)

Also – a new friend of mine who is an ultra runner celebrated my 11 mile run with me as if it were her own personal victory.  Did I mention she’s an ultra runner?  She has run in a 130-mile race. Yes, you read that right.  One hundred and thirty miles.  And she celebrated my 11 like it was the greatest thing on earth.  Little things.

A random sweet text from my son; an email from a friend saying that my blog has inspired them to start running; getting chills while listening to a room full of little girls singing songs at a rehearsal for Annie….

I have to make myself stop.  This list could go on and on and on.

And isn’t that awesome?

Take the time to notice them.  They’re everywhere.  All of these little things are what make this crazy ride called life worthwhile.  Unfortunately, we are sometimes too busy to appreciate them.  But we need to stop that.  These may be the memories that fill our minds one day when we’re looking back on our past – the same ones that we might forget to give a second glance to in the present.  So, stop.  Look around.  Hear the things that aren’t being said – see the things that aren’t so obvious.  Be grateful.  Be appreciative.  Be alive.

Now, go make your list of little things.

***

“Half the joy of life is in little things taken on the run…
but let us keep our hearts young and our eyes open that nothing worth our while shall escape us.”
– Victor Cherbuliez

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 2 Comments

10

Apr. ’13

Sing Anyway

auditionblog

This idea has been on my mind pretty heavy for the past few days.

I was just at auditions for a play.  There are many people – mostly kids – who auditioned and will not get a role.  And that makes me sad, but it’s just the way it is.  When there are parts for 12 kids and 30+ show up for auditions, it’s inevitable that there will be some that won’t get roles.  And here’s what I wish I could tell the ones who didn’t get a role this time:

Don’t give up.  Try again.

And if you don’t get a role during the next show, try again the next time.  And the time after that.

Auditions remind me of the tests the kids have to take in school.  It’s one standardized test that every student has to take, regardless of their test-taking skills.  I have always been one of those kids that was an excellent test-taker.  I could cram that stuff in my brain just before time for the test, and then I would shine under pressure.  And my grades reflected that.  But there’s a problem with that.  Once the test was over, so was the knowledge.  I retained very, very little.

Now, on the other hand, you have the students who freeze when it’s time to take a test.  When it’s time to actually transfer the knowledge that they actually have in their brain to little filled-in circles on a test sheet, they panic.  It’s just too much pressure. Unlike the ones like me who crammed the knowledge in there 20 minutes prior to test time, these kids actually know this stuff.  And will probably be able to apply it better later in life than the excellent test takers like myself.  And yet – they are the ones who are deemed “failures” because of a score on a test.  So unfair.  But what’s the solution?  What’s the answer to this problem?  You got me.

Which brings me back to these auditions.

I know there were kids who were probably phenomenal singers and actors, but being up there trying to present yourself in front of a room full of people and beg them to like you…that’s some seriously scary stuff.  Your best self may not exactly show through the fear.  But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.  It is.  You just have to keep trying.  Try, try, try.  Over and over again.  Eventually, who you are will bust through the fear and everyone will be able to see what was in there all along.  If you want something – truly want something – you will make it happen.

And aside from that – sometimes, especially in theatre, whether or not you’re chosen for something may actually have little to do with your ability at all.  Sometimes it’s that you weren’t the right look for the part.  Maybe not the right height.  Maybe not the right hair color.  Etc. etc. etc.  There are SO many factors in choosing a role in a theatre show.  DO NOT TAKE IT PERSONALLY!  Just get up, dust yourself off, and show up again the next time.  Next time you might be exactly what they were looking for.

I’ll use my daughter as an example here.  She hesitantly auditioned for the last show at this theatre.  She was terrified, but she got up there and gave it her all anyway.  And did she get the role?  Nope.  Not because she wasn’t “good enough.”  Not by any means.  She just wasn’t the right age for the part.  But she tried anyway.  And when she didn’t get the role, she graciously offered to help backstage (and did an excellent job I might add).  She handled it with grace and didn’t take it personally.  (Yet another reason why I want to be like her when I grow up.)  And then, with that “rejection” filed away in the past, she got up and tried again.  She auditioned for Annie, hoping to get a small role somewhere, and walked away with the lead.  She’s Annie.  Just like that.  She went from not getting a role at all in the last show to getting the lead in this one.  That’s how things work, people.  It’s a fickle business, this acting stuff.

Kind of like life, ya know?

If it didn’t work this time, that doesn’t mean it will never work.  Now may just not have been the right time.  For a variety of reasons.  But don’t let it stop you!  Get up, and try again.

[I’ll interrupt here with a link to an interesting story of a theatre rejection I received once, and the director’s response years later to that rejection. Interesting stuff if you get a chance to take a look. Be sure you read the comment section too – that’s where the good stuff is.]

So back to the point.  Yes – try again.  Again and again and again.  If you want it, it will happen.  You may not be the “best” singer, the “best” actor, the “best” whatever.  There’s always going to be someone who can do something “better” than you can.  That’s just life.  But that’s not the point.  As Henry van Dyke put it, “Use what talents you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.”  The point is to do what you can do, and do it loud and proud.

And one day, you will be heard.  I promise.

***
You can pour your soul out singin’
A song you believe in
Then tomorrow they’ll forget you ever sang.
Sing it anyway
– Martina McBride
(lyrics to Do It Anyway)

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 1 Comment

03

Apr. ’13

Week-old Miracles

Twins

“Hearts entwined
Twenty fingers, twenty toes,
two sweet babies with cheeks of rose.
Born on the same day, two gifts from above,
lives entwined, two babies to love.”
– Author Unknown

A week ago today, my beautiful sister Jenny gave birth to the little identical angels you see above.  She was only 30 weeks pregnant. 

I live about eight hours away from her, and when I got the call that she was going into labor this early, I knew there was no way I would make it in time for the birth.  And given that she was so early in her pregnancy, I was terrified.  I had no idea what to expect, but I’ll admit that my expectations were not good ones.  It was so early in the pregnancy – and there were going to be two babies.  Both of those factors led me to fear the worst.  I was so afraid for my sister.

But – less than an hour after the news that she had arrived at the hospital, I got the call that the babies were here.  Big sister Trinity arrived first by c-section weighing in at a whopping 2 pounds, 10 ounces, followed by “little” sister Serenity weighing 3 pounds, 2 ounces.  Mommy and babies were all doing wonderful!  Of course, since the little ones were so tiny – they were going to have to be transferred to the neonatal intensive care unit at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital in Nashville, TN.  This is about an hour from where their Mommy had to stay for a few more days.  I can’t even imagine what my sister went through during the interim while she waited to see her babies.  She’s a tough one, I know that.

My car didn’t seem to be able to go fast enough to get me there to see those sweet little babies.  I honestly had no idea what to expect as far as how they would look.  But when I saw them for the first time, I was absolutely amazed.  I knew they’d be small…but that small??  Was that even possible?  And they just looked like…well, like babies.  Teeny tiny little babies.  I guess I expected there to be something “different” about them since they were so early.  But nope.  They were just perfect little ten-fingered, ten-toed, crying little angels. 

It’s hard to put into words how much I felt during those days I was able to visit them in that hospital.  First of all, I was simply amazed at the marvels of modern medical equipment.  Thank goodness Jenny had those babies during this day and time when all of these medicines and machines are available to us.  Thanks to incubators, feeding tubes, IVs, etc., my little nieces slept peacefully in their little isolated shelters.  And the nurses were incredible.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I’ll let this picture of little Serenity’s nurse’s “uniform” speak for itself:

nurse

So, in addition to the amazing medical care my nieces are getting – I was also blown away by the sheer miracle of their existence.  Standing there looking down at these little 2-pound humans had a profound affect on me.  As I said to my brother, “It’s amazing that these teeny tiny little babies are going to be screwed-up adults like us one day.”  (Yeah, I’m known for my deep philosophical quotes in serious moments such as this one.)  But think about it – isn’t that crazy!?  We were all tiny babies once.  Maybe not quite as tiny as my little nieces, but still.  Something about that just amazed me when I took the time to think about it.  Everything they are going through right now will not even register in their memory one day.  They’ll go on to be adults and have babies of their own and live, laugh, love, make mistakes, make amends…just like the rest of us.  What a miracle life is, isn’t it?  And watching my sister take care of them – wow.  That too touched my heart.  I remember when Jenny herself was just a tiny little baby (she’s 11 years younger than me).  That little tiny person is now the mom of these little tiny persons.  Crazy, man.  Just crazy.

Here’s a pic I got of her “feeding” little Trinity for the first time (she’s fed breast milk through a feeding tube):

jenfeeding

Oh, I could just go on and on and on with this blog, but I guess I better wrap it up.  I just wanted to give a shout out to my beautiful new twin nieces and welcome them to this world; to pay tribute to my amazingly strong sister Jenny for being exactly the mommy those two babies needed; and to just make a general observation that life truly is a pretty awesome thing. 

Welcome to this crazy ride, Trinity and Serenity.

***

“A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.”
– Carl Sandburg

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . 9 Comments

22

Mar. ’13

Ounce of Strength

I got the sweetest text from my mom yesterday.  It was in response to the latest batch of blogs I had mailed to her.  If you missed it, in one of my previous entries I mentioned that my mom doesn’t have a computer, so I print out and mail all of my blog entries to her.  She’s my biggest fan. (Maybe my only fan??  “A blog only a mother could love?…” But I digress…)

So, this is what her text said: “You are one strong woman! I wish I only had a portion of your strength.”

I read that, and then went back and re-read it again.  First, because my mom is just awesome.  Who doesn’t need to hear stuff like that?  I’m so lucky to have her support.  But secondly, I re-read it because it sounded so familiar to me.  And I couldn’t quite place why.

Then, it dawned on me.

When my daughter was only 2 years old (she’s 13 now), I could already see the fiery strength of her personality.  I remember watching her one day and just being able to visualize with such clarity what a strong woman she was going to become one day.  I saw in her the person I wish I could be – strong, determined, feisty.  And when I saw those things in her, I wrote this poem:

***

Ounce of Strength
Look at you.
I’m amazed at your abilities,
At your determination,
At your strong will.
Nothing can stop you!
I watch you in awe.
You adapt to change so quickly.
You remain steady
Even when the world around you changes.
You amaze me.
You inspire me.
You are my constant.
What I wouldn’t give to have just a little of your ability –
Just one iota of your determination –
Just one ounce of your strength.
Thank you.

***

Turns out I was right.  She’s still a little superwoman.  Full of an unending energy, wit, and strength that astounds me at times.  Nothing gets to that girl.  She is who she is and that’s just all there is to it.  Stubborn, dedicated, determined little Kelly.

And after getting that text from my mom, it finally hit me.  All of that is also how my mom sees me.

Wow.  I’m not sure if I ever realized that before.  That’s pretty awesome.

And you know what?  I’m willing to bet that her mom sees her exactly the same way.  Which makes me realize something else.  Maybe, just maybe, I just might have had a little something to do with Kelly’s personality.  And you know what else?  My mom had a little something to do with mine.  And her mom had a little something to do with hers.  And so on, and so on.

Hmmm.  Well, how about that!?

We need to remember that more often.  Really let this thought sink in:

Who we are will manifest in our kids. 

And you know what?   If we’re careful – those manifestations may just end up being some really great things.

***

And thou shalt in thy daughter see,
This picture, once, resembled thee.
– Ambrose Philips

kellyblog1

Posted by . Categories: Freestyle Writings/Musings, Poetic Musings. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment