grandma veda.

“I’m telling on you, mom-YOU ARE SO UNFAIR!”
“Who are you telling on me?”
“GRANDMA!”

And with that I stomped out of the room and proceeded to call Grandma on our cordless phone as I walked away from the house, down the driveway, running away.

For, you see, she was my first “Person.”
The one I could call for anything.

She moved on from this life five and a half years ago, two days after my youngest came into this world.  I miss her. But it’s odd. Often when I miss her the most she finds a way to get my attention and let me know she’s thinking about me too.

Right after she passed away I dreamt about her a couple nights in a row-she would just come and talk to me, chat away. Then one night she came and let me know-probably about a week after she died-that she had work to do now and that she can’t keep visiting me. She told me I would be ok and that she would come back but it wouldn’t be for awhile. And then she was gone.

But when I need her….when I really need to run away to Grandma’s again…she comes back…but not in another dream-although I will it to be so, many times…but she makes her presence known. And it’s enough to scratch the itch.

I was in the midst of a tough period in my life, one of those where I would have run away to Grandma’s house for sure-and was missing her horribly. Mr. Man and I were on a road trip from NorCal down to LA and we stopped at Harris Ranch-a place Grandma had taken me as a kid on a special road trip. I stopped in the completely empty restroom to wash my hands and the entire room smelled of her perfume. Completely caught off guard I ran out of the room looking for the woman who smelled like her. Didn’t see a soul in sight. It was late at night and the restaurant was nearly vacant. I walked back into the restroom and just breathed deeply soaking it all up with teary eyes feeling like I had just been given the best hug ever.

I even found her at Target this Christmas. I miss her horribly at Christmas! It was her perfume. Again. I was shopping in the women’s clothing section for…well…ok…for me. But I was done with everyone else!!! And I smelled it. Again. That perfume. The same perfume I hadn’t smelled in over two years-the one I smelled at Harris Ranch. And I followed it. This time I found an owner. A cute little old Hispanic lady who-I’m sure-was NOT shopping for herself. And I just followed her for a few minutes.

Breathing deeply.
Just to take it all in.
And feel her.
That is, until the woman looked at me oddly, her 6 foot tall stalker.
In Target. At Christmas time.
So I walked away. But totally fulfilled!

I still see her, too-I see her in the people around me.

I see her in my mom-I hear her and I feel her strength and spirit. Sometimes, when my mom reaches for my hand or plays the piano I see my grandmother’s hands. I see her in my mothers eyes-it’s a fierce strength and a quiet determination with a mix of tenderness, vulnerability and love.

I feel her in the way I feel about myself around my Uncle John. Grandma made me feel like I can do anything-and never chastised me for poor choices-just encouraged me to get back up again. Something about the way John is, makes me feel the same-I can literally feel her spirit around him sometimes. And he loves on kids and makes them feel incredibly special just like she did.

There are other times, wearing her ring and literally feel her soft, elderly hand hold mine, finding her plastic grapes in an antique store and her favorite Christmas song come on at that exact moment, or even a hummingbird-her absolute favorite-hovering around me and Jordi at Family Camp while we’re talking about her…

Enough to make me know that I'm not sure what’s next after this life…but I know there is something. Because she is there. And she knows where I am.

I was the lucky one-the oldest of 40 or so grandkids.
I had the most time with her.
And remember the most.
I treasure all of it but I also know what I’m missing out on.

I am one lucky girl.

Merry Christmas Eve…McGee

reboot.

I love my iPhone.
I really don’t think I could live without it.
It gives me access to whatever I need!

But sometimes it doesn’t work right.
Sometimes it runs slowly.
Sometimes is freezes…it gets stuck in a rut.
But it’s just an iPhone, a mini-computer, so I just reboot.
And we’re back in business!

Sometimes I find that I am not operating properly. I’m working slowly, stuck in a rut, not quite functioning at 100%. Often when I feel this way, it’s because I have lots on my plate, not enough time and too much stress!

So as a human being, a woman and a mom what do I do?

I push.
I work harder.
I get frustrated.
I get irritated.
And dare I say I get unkind and martyr-y?
(Which, by the way, my family does not appreciate!)

I think maybe I’m doing it wrong.
I think I need to just reboot.

Ever notice how things can be just fine, life is good, we’re all heading in the right direction and WHAM-you’re watching Real Housewives of Atlanta and Kim sings “Tardy For The Party” for the first time and you start shedding tears, just so touched in the moment? That’s my sign that I need a good cry! It’s an emotional release, I usually feel a million times better and it’s not personal-which I have tried to explain to Mr. Man who looks at me like I’ve grown a third eye and wonders what on earth he did to make me cry like that. It’s just a means of rebooting baby!

So then today...I almost jumped all over just about everyone who lives in this house while handling stockings, glue and glitter. Which, thankfully, gave me pause. (Rule of thumb…if three or more people tell you that you’re nuts, are mad at you at any one time or look at you like your horns just came out…it’s you. Not them.) There’s much to enjoy during the holidays and I need to stay capable of enjoying them all!

So as we get more and more into the holiday season…
Reboot.
Turn it all off.
Take a deep breath.
Have a good cry.
Take a quiet walk.

Do what it takes to reboot that system and fire on all cylinders.
We will function better, be more fun and enjoy life more!

McGee

pit and peak.

I was feeling miserable stuck in my nasty head cold this afternoon with absolutely THE shortest fuse ever and hungry to boot, on my way home from picking up the girls from basketball practice that ran 20 minutes later than it should have, and running through the grocery store at 5pm grabbing things we forgot earlier.

How’s that for a run on sentence?

I was tired and cranky for sure!

But I came home to dinner cooking and smelling delicious thanks to Mr. Man, took a minute to decompress and then up the stairs came the call “dinners ready!” We went through the typical plea from the 5 year old about the juice he would rather have then milk and dished everyone up. We all sat down to dinner and then, without prompting, my 5 year old says-“who’s going first?”

Let me backtrack for a minute…one night I was watching a fascinating, brilliant, thought provoking documentary on TV about a close knit family talking about what made them so close…ok…fine…I was watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians…a reality show about people who are famous for…well..nothing…but they WERE talking about dinner table conversations growing up. In their house, every day at dinner, they took turns telling each other about the pit and the peak of their day. So one day I thought I would try it on for size in our house. We do eat dinner together every night of the week and I thought this may be a good way to encourage more conversation than the usual “school was boring”, “I have too much homework”, etc. So for the last couple months we’ve been sharing our pits and peaks of the day-all of us-not just the kids.

Now. The kids have been away for a week and tonight was the first weeknight we were all at the table again. And the 5 year old prompts us about our pits and peaks. Awesome.

So they all take turns, there are lots of pits and peaks, none very drastic, some cute and clever and a kindergarten argument with his arch enemy Ashely about who said which bad word (which by the way was “peace out sucker” I know. It’s shocking the language these kids bust out!)

And I’m last.
And I think for a second.

My pit is that I woke up with an insane cough and a raw sore throat.

But my peak was homemade Chicken Pot Pie, sitting around the table with the people I love the most, talking about everyone’s day.

Thank you Kim Kardashian.
You have improved my parenting!

Go figure.

McGee

in these four walls...

Wars.
Sickness.
Recession.
Challenged Economy.
Crazy people with drama all around.

There are plenty of things in the outside world that given the chance would absolutely drive the most sane, well adjusted person up a wall if given the chance. But here we are at the grateful season of Thanksgiving followed quickly by the wonderful heartfelt season of Christmas and love. So I’ve been thinking a lot about what makes our lives great out here in McGee-ville.

I am grateful on any given day for many things and many people in my life. I have been blessed with an amazing mother, a father who loved me in his own ways crazy as they may be and sisters that I make crazy and vice versa but who stick together when it counts. I am grateful for the huge extended family I grew up with and the memories that time can’t even take away from me. I’m grateful that I have a job. I don’t love it but I am grateful for work! I’m grateful for good friends, good health, a roof over my head, a reliable car, the clothes on my back…there are a great many things that I am grateful for.

But this year…
This year I am most grateful for my own four walls.

I’m not a self proclaimed accomplished homemaker by any stretch. I’m not very good at decorating-I know when it looks good but I’m not sure how to start. I can’t bake bread and I love flowers but I’m not so sure how to arrange them. I cook…a little…I can bake up a storm but that is perhaps as domestic as I get!

But I think I found the secret.

I learned how to create the home our family needed with some help from my man-let’s call him Mr. Man. And it had nothing to do with shabby chic décor or Betty Crocker homemaking-although I wish I had those skills! It was about what we feel when we walk into our four walls.

This past year Mr. Man and I have spent lots of blood, sweat and tears taking the best of our homes growing up and meshing that into our own home. As a result, I am most grateful that regardless of the craziness that is life, the challenge of whatever school or work has brought, that no matter who or what attempts to tear us down at the end of the day we and any combination of our four kids get to come home to a safe, loving, warm, supportive home where we block the rest of the world out and focus on our family.

THAT is a home.
THAT is what I am extremely grateful for.
THAT is why 2009 has been such a blessing.

I have a partner in Mr. Man that picks up where I leave off, that adores me and all four of these kids and that loves to cook the most amazing meals. I have been blessed to fall in love with my very best friend and find-to my delight-that he wants the same four walls that I do. We have four beautiful, strong, smart, loving children who are healthy and happy and who know they are loved. We share what’s in our four walls with good friends and family from time to time who leave little imprints of their hearts as they fill our four walls.

It’s not always blissful, it’s not always clean and much to our kids dismay sometimes I have to cook instead of him.

But what happens in our four walls
will always outweigh what waits outside.

And we are all the better for it.
Because it’s home.

McGee

real strength.

I think grandma jinxed me at 16.
I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean to.
But thanks Grandma.

When I was 16, my grandma, who I have to say is one of my all time favorite people to have ever lived on this earth, sent me a letter and in it she says “You have already seen more than many people do in life and you are strong for it.”

If she had a crystal ball, if she knew that one day I would survive my parents divorce, lose my relationship with my father to mental illness, would marry very young and struggle through 12 years before parting ways, go through my own personal crises and support others through theirs, raise kids of my own and those that came to me in a round about way and then lose her in the process…I wonder if she would have dared say I had seen enough to give me strength by the ripe old age of 16. It was almost as if she dared the universe to bring it on!

As the oldest of 6 girls raised by the oldest daughter of 8 kids I was born with the knack of taking care of others and being the strong stalwart one. When anyone had a problem I knew I could handle it. I assumed the role. When my parents split up I stepped in to help with the younger kids. I was the one who didn’t cry. I was the one that pretended to be strong. There was a good portion of my adult years where I thought I was being strong for others by telling them what they should be doing and using shame in attempt to help them straighten out.

Really not so strong.

Fortunately-for the people in my life-I found some sanity, some peace and perspective and have spent the rest of my adult years-so far-attempting to offer strength and help when it was appropriate and helpful. I’m not going to lie…it’s progress not perfection but it’s surely an improvement! At least that’s what my sisters tell me!

And yet I still had not found my true strength.

They say you don’t know how strong you are until you are faced with the impossible.  They say we don’t know our own strength.  I believe in crisis we do things we didn’t consciously think we could do. I believe hindsight is 20/20 and when we look back we feel strong.

But I also believe that my strongest moment came when I could not go any further alone.

That moment came after I had spent 12 months pretending with everyone important that my life was great and perfect. I lied. I lied to save face and I lied because I was in denial. I had made the choice to move away from home with my kids-to do something different-much to some peoples disappointment-and I fell on my face . I was now officially in over my head, facing Christmas with just the kids, financially shaky and in the midst of an emotional crisis.

And I had no idea what to do next.

I found myself in bed late one night.
All alone.
In the fetal position.

I cried and I cried…”I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this”
And then I felt calm.
And a quiet strong voice reminded me I wasn’t alone.
And then I did the unthinkable.

I asked for help.

I had to ask my sisters, my little sisters, the ones who I had always tried to be stronger than, for help. And you know what? They helped like nobody’s business. They came. They picked me up. They dusted me off. They did the things I could not do. They didn’t tell me I was a mess, they didn’t judge me or turn me away.

I think perhaps they were relieved that I was finally real.
That I was finally willing to admit my life was messy.
That they could offer me something I needed and was afraid to ask for…

Help.
And some laughter.
And a shoulder to cry on.
And a tremendous amount of grace.

And at that moment I realized what strength was. Strength was not being strong enough to do it all by myself. Strength was knowing I could not and finding the humility to ask for help. Strength came in allowing those who loved me, who I had supported in the past, give back and help me do what I could not do for myself. When I hit my knees, God reminded me that he placed some very special people in my life and in my family and that all I needed to do was ask. And they would be there. And they really were.

McGee

Check out http://www.freshbrew.org/ for some more sources of strength!

scared.

I’m scared.

More like terrified.

Not like spiders, snakes and being scared in the dark.

Much worse than that.

Spiders and snakes I can handle.

More like am I enough as a mom, have I taught them the right things, will they make good choices, do they know what they need to know to go out into the world? Forget the world-are they smart enough and have strong enough values to survive middle school?

That’s not scary. That’s plain terrifying.

My friend commented to me that she was enjoying my blog but perhaps I could write about mothering…maybe give her some advice…LOL…Mary, this one is for you!

Most of my peers spent their 20’s mastering the fine art of partying and their 30’s trying to move past that. Not me. In my 20’s I was raising babies and mastering the fine art of the “What If” game followed by a case of the “If Only’s”. In my 30’s I’m trying to move past THAT and I do…for the most part…except for when it comes to those adorable babies I was raising in my 20’s…both of whom woke up one morning as beautiful, talented, cute, smart and sassy young women. Which brings me to a whole new level of “What If” and “If Only”!

I’m not ready for that!

I just realized that my oldest daughter is going to be in high school next year. High school. Where Freshmen go to school with Seniors. The leap is staggering. I remember watching Zach at a basketball game his Freshmen year and watching the Senior boys across the gym thinking…oh my goodness. My little boy is going to school with grown men!  And now I'm looking at sending GIRLS there?!?!?

The truth is, 98% of the time I think I’m a good mom. I’m doing the things I want to do with my children, I’ve taught them well, they are active kids who know they are loved and supported. Sure they don’t love their veggies and they like to occasionally push every last button we have but they are good kids none the less.

Then there’s that 2%.

That 2% kept me up well past 1am last night as I shed tears of fear over had I done enough. Did I teach them the right things? Do they know what to do in any situation? Will they talk to me if they get in over their heads? Do they know their worth? Have I taught them enough so that they won’t repeat my mistakes?

I always wanted to be a mom but now I feel a little in over my head!
I wonder if my mom felt that way?
I wonder how many mom’s feel that way.
And late at night…trying to calm my worried mind…
I assume for the sake of sanity…that all mom’s feel that way.

And the kicker?
We aren’t even at high school yet!

McGee

The Crazy List

To do list? Check.

Grocery list? Check.

Pro’s and Con’s list? Check. In fact checked many times on many issues!

Goal list? Check.

We are a culture of list makers. And checker off-ers! In fact, sometimes, when making a list, I add things I’ve already done just so I can check them off!

But when I met Uncle Phil at the Beverly Hills Hotel I learned about a new list...The Crazy List.

But allow me to digress. I learned a few years back about a tricky little thing called boundaries. I think “issues” and “boundaries” are perhaps the buzz words of my generation. We all have “issues” and we’re a little confused about “boundaries”. I learned that we all have an acre. Now-if you have stopped playing FarmTown or FarmVille to come read my blog-you’ll catch my drift. We all have an acre and we surround ourselves with others acres. We like the company! But unlike FarmTown we can’t really maintain other people’s acres. We try. We get angry. We get frustrated. Why don’t they rake their leaves more often? Why aren’t they planting their corn yet? In our relationships, we tend to get confused about where our acre ends and our loved ones acres begin! That’s what fences are for. This is my space-that is yours. You can visit but you can’t stay.

Enter Uncle Phil.
Who’s not actually my uncle.
But is fabulous in every sense of the word.

Uncle Phil says we need to check our crazy list. When consumed with another person, their behavior, attitude, circumstance…we need to check-is that OUR crazy or THEIR crazy? When it’s ours we need to address it, fix it and move on…but on the good chance it’s their crazy…check them off on the crazy list and let it be.

Makes sense.

But what happens when we love that crazy person or that crazy spills out and affects me? Happens all the time. We spill on them and they spill on us. The point of the crazy list is not to disregard anyone with a case of the crazies. What it means is that we don’t have to take responsibility for other peoples crazy or their maintenance on their acre. Nor do we have to participate. We do, however, need to tend to our own.

I have had my fair share of crazy on both sides of the list. I have had a messy acre and a relatively clean one and every shade in between. I’m sure I’ve been checked off of other people’s crazy list more than once!

What I have learned though, is that there is a freedom and empowerment that comes from letting go of other people’s crazy and simply tending to my own acre.

And in the process, somehow, there is also a greater ability to love and accept them.

After all…they’re just crazy!

McGee

Top 10 Lessons I Learned From My Mom...so far.

10.  Surround yourself with people who know how to do what you don’t.

  9.  When you find shoes you love, buy one in each color available.

  8.  Money just adds zero’s to your problems.
It doesn’t usually solve them.

  7.  It’s OK to dream big.
 But it’s better to DO something about that dream.

  6.  Family is not just about blood.

Family should be inclusive of those we love and those who love us.

  5.  It’s OK to make mistakes, we all do, even the strongest of us.

  4.  When you do make a mistake admit it, fix it, but then move on.

  3.  Others will make mistakes that affect your life.

It will hurt-but you will survive.

  2.  Forgive them and then move on with grace.

And the number one lesson I’ve learned from my mom:

1.  Never turn away a guest for dinner. Just add vegetables.

There will always be enough.

My mom is pretty incredible. 

I love her because she's not perfect and she owns that.

She has given me what no other person

on the planet could give me the same way!

Thanks mom!

McGee

kimberly.

Did you know that Wayne Gretsky has more assists over his career than goals? How incredible is that? One of the all time great athletes has helped get the puck into another's capable hands more than he's made the goal himself.

Wanna know my best assist? It was to Kimberly. And it wasn't exactly mine.

I've always competed in some kind of athletic event-I'm not that competitive, I just enjoy exercising.

Ok. That was a lie. I like to win.  A lot.

When my oldest daughter was 5 she was on a non-competetive soccer team. When I overheard the coach tell them they were running "loser laps" at the end of practice because they were a bunch of losers that weekend I learned all I could about coaching and signed right up. My girls and their friends deserved better than loser laps. And I could check my competitiveness. For a few years anyway!

Fast forward 6 years of coaching. Watching 44 girls try out for 3 basketball teams I noticed an unusual looking girl. And here's why. The girls were 11-12 years old and she was perhaps 75 pounds soaking wet. With super blonde hair. And the biggest, thickest coke bottle glasses you ever did see. But she was a scraper! When it was time to select our teams another coach mentioned that one of us would have to take on the blind girl.

“Huh? Blind?”
“Well, legally blind-she can see in blurry shadows and has super hearing.”
“Super hearing?”
“Super hearing. You'll see. If you want to try and take her on.”
“I'll take her!”

So I got Kimberly.
I told Kimberly privately that I would treat her like one of the other 9 girls and that unless she had a specific reason I didn't feel it necessary to point out her disadvantage. The girls knew she struggled to see but it wasn't like she was running out on the court with a seeing eye dog. She proudly lifted up her chin and said great-let's go! I noticed that no matter where I put her on the court, Kimberly put in 100% all the time. When told to defend a girl, that poor girl on the opposing side was sadly smothered and left out of the game-no one could get her the ball because Kimberly was in the way.

She had heart.
And you just can't teach heart.

Towards the end of the season it came to my attention that Kimberly had never scored a basket. Ever. So we devised a play-called it "Special"-and practiced it with all the girls in the special position. We overload one side of the court, one girl sets a screen and the open girl has a wide open lane to the basket. The first time we ran it-we ran it for Kimberly. Close. But not quite. Half way through the game we ran it again.

And Kimberly scored.
And the crowd applauded, her family stood up and cheered.
And her teammates went absolutely nuts.
The ref had to blow his whistle to get the game back in gear and with tears in my eyes I realized I just witnessed perhaps the coolest assist of my life.

Four other girls on the court, myself and my assistant, the 5 girls on the bench, and her family. We were her cheerleaders. We got her the ball. We saw her potential. We believed. But she did it.

And my competitive soul can’t even recall if we won the game. It will never matter-but her basket will forever count.

Often I wonder if I've scored more goals than I should have.
Are there times where it would have been more appropriate to give the assist?

Tis sweet to score but perhaps tis better serving to assist.

McGee

Jumping in!

I've always wanted to write. 
And speak. 
To lots of people. 
Those who know me know I speak plenty...but I want to be heard. 

I tried a few times but only in safe venues where I knew in my heart I would succeed.  Church, Tupperware corporate training, Women's Groups...not a wide range mind you and always on topics I knew I could kill. 

But I was hanging with my girl Jen and realized we talk about everything and everything effects us.  Her everything bumps into mine just enough to slightly rearrange it and it never goes back to the same.  And mine to hers.  Hey-wait a minute-I have things to say!  And I have experience to share.  And hope?  Well often, but sometimes I need your hope. 

So here goes nothing. 
I have a life, it's a crazy one, it's entertaining some days, boring others. 
I have a story, it's not even begun to hit the peak. 
I have a family...it's complicated! 
You'll hear about it all in a random sort of way. 

Those of you along for the ride...thanks for taking it along side me! 
McGee
(My favorite nickname from my favorite human being)