Being Mom

Waking up to all this snow reminds me when my girls were little and my days were filled with putting on coats and boots, hats and mittens (after I found the lost ones!), getting everyone in the car and driving them two blocks to school, driving back again and getting the youngest one out of her coat, boots, hat and mittens, then turning around and doing it again a few hours later.  Sometimes we would drop the sister or sisters off at school, go to the grocery store or to grandmas, sometimes we would stay at school so Mommy could help in the school library or attend a PTA meeting.   It  could be rough with three little girls going in different directions, and sometimes it was stressful trying to be mom, volunteer, housekeeper, cook, and nurse, sometimes I was so tired I wanted to sit down and cry. At times when the fevers spiked or the coughs kept everyone awake or the vomit spewed, panic and fear overwhelmed me.  But, from the moment I found out I was pregnant with my first child, I was well aware of what the job of MOM entailed.  And I knew that with each child my responsibilities would grow.  I had my girls because I wanted them - they were not accidents ( I don't believe in "accidents" with all the birth control in this day and age) - they were not diversions until I found "myself" - they were not show pieces to brag about to family and friends.
My three little girls came first before everything else - before going out with friends, before TV, before sleep.  Oh, I was not a perfect mom and I made many mistakes, mistakes till the day I die I will regret.  "I'm sorry" were words I said a lot, and still say till this day.  I regret that my oldest daughter had to be my "rough draft," the child who had to go through the majority of my mom mistakes, the one I started out raising as my mother raised me - to be the little adult who did everything perfectly.  I always told my oldest daughter not to have an oldest child, and once again she listened to me - she had twins - boy and girl - with personalities so extreme that she has had no choice but to learn quickly that no child is perfect and neither is she.
I watch my daughters with their own children and can't help but wonder what part of mothering they learned from me, what they kept and what they threw away, which parts they tell their husbands "my mother did it this with me and I will NEVER do it this way with my child!"  Sometimes I can see the parts of mothering I was successful at and my daughters carried over to their children - letting the little ones help them bake, reading to them, singing, dancing, being involved with Mom's groups.  And I see myself trying to fix the mistakes I made with my children with my grandchildren - less yelling, overlooking the little things - giving the oldest more leeway.
In the middle of writing this post my oldest daughter called.  There is a wedding today, and her little Chloe, the flower girl is vomiting.  I know my daughter is frantic, both she and her husband are in the wedding, they are trying to get ready, trying to get the kids ready and worrying about Chloe.  And, the snow is pouring down, so along with all of this, there will be coats and boots, hats and mittens to be put on, getting everyone in the car, to the church, out of the coats, hats, mittens, and boots....
My hope is that like me, my daughters will look back one day and realize that if given the choice, they would happily do it all over again.

Daddy, Papa, and Leonard

DADDY - He never hesitated to change diapers, give bottles or baths.  He could fix anything  from dolls, games, bikes, even broken hearts.  He taught his daughters how to throw a ball, catch with a mitt, the proper way to hold a bat. He even taught them how to say the word, "Why"!  (Daddy, can I go outside?  "Why?" Daddy, can I have a dollar for lunch? "Why?"  Daddy, the toilet is plugged-up!  "Why?")
He took them on their first motorcycle ride, and taught them how to ride a bicycle and drive a car. He wasn't interested in stopping at the bar after work; he wanted to go home and be with his family.  He always went to Open House at their schools, Parent/Teacher Conferences, plays, concerts, and school functions.  He worried about his girls - when they were ill, when they were sad; when they started driving he paced the floor if they were five minutes past curfew!  After a few times of waiting for Kent bus to arrive (which was ALWAYS late), he decided to start driving Hollie back and forth to Kent on weekends himself.
He helped each girl buy her first car,and gave them their first monthly bill to pay.  He showed them how to put gas in the car, fill the windshield wiper reservoir, check the air in the tires (although I don't think any of his girls  got the hang of that one!).  He said "I told you to watch your speed" when they got their first speeding ticket, and found the best place to hang on to when he was the passenger and they were the driver.
He welcomed each son-in-law into our family warmly, but with firm warning that he would come looking for them if they ever hurt his Jennifer, Hollie, Amy.  He told everyone that his family consists of six "kids" once they were all married.  He knows what sports the guys like, what kind of work they do, the make of their cars.  He is always willing to lend a hand, but tries hard not to impose on their time or space.  He respects their opinions, but is not afraid to give them his.
PAPA -  He still changes diapers, gives bottles and baths, and can fix anything!  His TV remote is highly respected, and his DVR is filled with Toy Story, Wonder Pets, Backyardigans, Tinkerbell, trains, and cars.  His chair and his lap is the best place to watch TV or take a nap. His swing is the best and he comes up with the best "swinging" songs.  He makes "work" fun, can turn tears into laughter, has the best trains.  His garage has riding cars and bubbles, and he now understands that sidewalk chalk is okay to use on the driveway and patio.  He cooks awesome pancakes and scrambled eggs, lets his grandkids stay up past their bedtime, and will not hesitate to take their side against their moms.  He gives hugs and kisses freely, looks for the moon for and with each grandchild, and grandkid-sits more than any grandfather I know.  He proudly tells anyone who will listen that he now has 11 "kids" plus one on the way. 
Sometimes I think back to the day in Bob Evans when Leonard said to me, "I know the girls are grown-up now and don't need me like they used to, but I still want to be here for them."  It was March of 2003, we had just come from the doctors, and although the colonoscopy was still a few weeks down the road, we both kinda knew that the results were not going to be good.
We almost lost our husband and daddy that year to cancer.  I know that God, the doctors, and the many prayers that were said for Leonard during that horrible time played a part in his recovery, but in the end, I believe he beat the disease because he loved his family and still "wanted to be here for them."
Happy Dad's Day Leonard, I love you and am very, very thankful that you are still here for us!

Sophie

I had no idea who she was but every day while I waited in line to pick-up Amy and Hollie from school she would come over to my car and catch me up on PTA and the school gossip.  Finally I asked Mary Ellen who she was, the short woman with the short chestnut hair who talked and talked.  "Oh, you mean Sophie?  Mary Ellen said, laughing.  "She's lives two houses away from me.  Until this year her daughter, Amanda, went to St. Clements. Sophie is a lot of fun!
I got to know Sophie better over the next few months since Amanda and Amy were in the same class, but it wasn't until a warm, May night when I took her home from a PTA function that we became friends.  That night, we sat in my car, in her driveway, and talked for over an hour. We talked about PTA, kids, grandkids (she had one; I didn't), and how our husbands never answered the phone because it was never for them. We decided right then and there that our husbands needed to meet. We exchanged phone numbers, and the rest is history.
Sophie entered my life at a time when I was "out-of-sorts" with my world.  It wasn't the best time in my marriage, and I was struggling with being a working girl after being a stay-at-home mom for many years.  My daughters were growing-up, and after getting married so young, I wasn't sure where I belonged. Sophie became the older sister I never had, and sometimes, the mom, the one who would listen and not judge, but at the same time put me in my place.
Sophie was quite outspoken, and believe me, if she had something to say to you, she said it!  Clearly.  I learned from Sophie to stand-up for myself to the point where sometimes even Sophie would tell me to back down!  When Paul and Leonard got to know each other the four of us would pick Mary Ellen up and go out dancing and drinking on the weekends.  We became PTA's "bad girls," following a country band called The Outriders.  We became the band's most loyal fans (Mary Ellen married one of the band's guitarists, Rodger), and called ourselves "The Hall of Shame Dancers."  We would close the bars then go for breakfast where nine times out of ten I would plop ketchup on my white blouse. Sophie's favorite song was The Dance, by Garth Brooks, and one night, after a few beers, she told me that she wanted The Dance played at her funeral.  I said, "Okay, and do you want buried in your purple cowboy boots?"  "Yep," she answered.  "Okay" I said again, and then we started talking about how we were going to be two old ladies in cowboy hats and boots causing "Trouble" at the nursing home.
 It wasn't all fun and games. There were spousal disagreements (ok, sometime huge arguments), kids to keep in line and take care of, financial woes, and everyday life to deal with. This was the part of of our lives that taught me what a great woman and "great mom" Sophie was, as her daughter wrote on FaceBook yesterday.
Sophie put everyone else first.  She was there for me when Leonard was in the motorcycle accident - pretending to be his sister so she could go into the ER room with me (did I mention Sophie was a nurse before she became a full-time mom?).  She walked in and bent down by Leonard and said, "I am your sister."  Leonard looked at Soph, went to say something, and she said "Shhh!  I am your sister!)  She watched Amy every morning before school, and was the only person Amy would stay with other that my mother.  She kept Amy overnight when I had surgery, and made our wedding cake for our 20th anniversary.  She volunteered at  school and church, helped out her older neighbors, and as far as I know, never missed Mass.
Soph made all the pew bows for Jen and Bill's wedding; she loved to do crafts and make things for friends and family.  Her kids have quilts and crocheted blankets, dream catchers ( I still have mine, and the plate she made for our anniversary).  She made homemade fudge every Christmas.  Her backyard was filled with flowers and toys for the grandkids, and her heart overflowed with kindness for young and old alike.
Soph called me on spring evening.  "I found a lump, but I'm sure it's nothing."  I think my heart stopped at that moment.  "You still need to call the doctor," I told her.  "I did, I'm going tomorrow.  But I'm sure it's nothing."
Nothing turned out to be nine months ( I remember this because after she found out it was cancer she said it would be all be over in nine months, the same amount of time as being pregnant, but without the cute little baby coming at the end) of radiation, surgery and chemo.  At the end of that phone conversation I hung up the phone and cried.  She made me promise to make an appointment for a mammogram, and made me promise to have one every year (And I do).  Soph might have lost her hair through her treatments, but never her spirit and positive outlook.  She still tried to help others even when she was going through the treatments.
Nine months later Sophie was feeling good; the cancer was gone. She and Paul traveled to Disney World with Amanda's cheerleading squad, Amanda graduated, Soph spent time with little Patrick and the other grandkids, and our conversations went back to normal.
It was the day after Thanksgiving, the year 2000.  I had done something to my back and could not get up from the chair.  I called Sophie for "nursing" advice.  "My back hurts too, and my neck is stiff," she told me.
"Gee," I said, "Maybe we should start going dancing again, we had less aches and pains when we were going out all the time!"
I ignored the signs, I didn't even want to think about what it could be.  I knew my aches were nothing, but I had read enough when Sophie was diagnosed with Breast Cancer to know her aches could be something.  It wasn't until Leonard and I stopped over Sophie and Paul's to tell them about our new home in Parma Heights, that it hit.  Sophie's cancer was back, this time, in her bones.  She said, "I'll have the treatments and this time it will be gone for good!"  I prayed Soph was right.
I have many regrets from those last months Sophie was here, but my biggest regret is not going over to see her on Good Friday, 2001.  She called me at work, and I could tell by the way she was talking, things were not good.  Paul got on the phone and I could hear the worry in his voice.  Sophie wanted to talk to me again and said, "You will come over next week, for sure, right?"  I promised I would.  I kept my promise, but Sophie wasn't there.  She made it to spend Easter with her family, but by Monday evening, she was gone.  Amanda called and told me.  I remember hanging up the phone, and, I don't even know how to explain the horrible, heartbroken sounds coming from my throat.  My best friend, my guardian angel was gone.  I cried for me, for Paul, for their kids. I cried more for Sophie than I did for my own mom.
It's been ten years since Sophie's been gone, and I still miss her everyday.  So many times I want to pick up the phone and talk with her; get her advice.  She would be so very proud of all her kids and grandkids.  But even though we cannot see her, she is still here with us, watching over us and cheering us on.
I often think back to those days in Franklin's parking lot, sitting in the car talking though the window to the short woman with the short hair whose name I didn't know.  Thank you God, for sending Sophie over to me!
Love you Soph!

The Job of My Dreams

This past year I've gone on quite a few interviews, a nerve-wracking experience in today's job market for anyone, but especially for those of us on the other side of forty.  For the most part the interviews have gone well, and although I didn't always get the call-back for a second interview, I came through the experiences with a positive attitude and enough praise from the interviewer to move ahead with my job search.  

Until last week.

The job advertisement was for a Marketing Assistant - a "people person" with various office and computer skills.  I have all the qualifications so I applied.  On Thursday I got the call for the interview and spent Thursday night filling out the application and revamping my portfolio.  It was a small (2 person office) business so I choose not to wear a suit but instead wore a nice skirt, top, and dressy sweater.

Maybe it was the sweater.

The outside of the building looked liked it belonged in the slums.  I overlooked that part knowing that ninety percent of small businesses in the Cleveland area have failed in the past 3 years.  The inside did look better and when I opened the door to the office I was interviewing at, I was impressed with the set-up.

Still, something didn't feel right.

Ms. Small Office greeted me first.  She was dressed in jeans so I was glad that I didn't overdress.  Soon Mr. Small Office came in and shook my hand.  Nice guy. Worked his way up from the bottom, kept his business running during the recession.  

Yet, the looks that Ms. and Mr. were throwing my way made me want to say, "Didn't expect someone old and chubby to walk through the door, did you?"

Then Mr. "I am the Leader and Decision Maker" walked in.  For you "youngster" interviewers out there - remember- most of us old folks know instinctively when we are not wanted.  This young man did not hide his surprise when he saw that there was not a pretty young thing waiting to impress him.  In fact, he just starred at me for while after he sat down.  When Mr. Small Office tried to pick up the slack by asking me to tell them about myself, I could see Mr. Decision Maker shaking his head "no."  

That's when the words coming out of my mouth started fighting with the thoughts going through my "old" brain.

Me - "I completed my college degree two years ago when I was laid-off."

Ms. Small Office - "I give you a lot of credit for finishing your degree...while you were laid-off."

"Old" Brain - "You mean you give me a lot of credit for finishing my degree at my age, don't you?"  

Me - "Thank you"

Mr. Decision Maker - "What would your employers say about you?"

Me - "I am punctual, helpful, a team player, meet deadlines, and always do a good job."

"Old" Brain - "I do a good enough job that they can ignore my "Senior" moments."

The interview lasted less than 15 minutes, and that was with phone calls from their kids and a current employer looking for his paycheck.  They had no interest in looking at my portfolio, the portfolio that impressed other interviewers enough to give me that second interview. I walked outside into the sunshine glaring at the dirt-covered windows of the building, got into my car and drove away, laughing, knowing I would not be back.

Now, I do give my interviewers credit - they worked their way up from employees to employers, moved out of their parents attic into their customized 3000 square foot homes, work two days a week and make enough money in one year to support their families for ten years.  They are no different than many people today - make it big, get it all, sit back and relax.  I wouldn't mind having it all either - but not at the expense at making fools out of others.

Mr. Decision Maker; Ms. and Mr. Small Business, Here's a little information I didn't give you in the interview:

I was once that Pretty Young Thing.  I was even told by a co-worker once that the sales guys were glad I was hired because I was "nice to look at."  That was okay, because I knew I was hired by the owner because I had the job skills.  I completed most of my college education while raising three girls, working full-time, and running interference between my parents.  I don't like men who act like I am a second class citizen, and I don't like people who judge me by my age, looks, or weight.  It is not polite to answer the phone while in a business meeting with anyone.  Mr. Decision Maker, you need that self-righteous attitude smacked out of you!  Someday, not too far in the future, you will be looked upon as being "old."  

For this "old" lady who is writing this post, the week didn't end on a bad note.  I met all my deadlines at the office before leaving on Friday, spent Saturday afternoon at JoAnn's choosing fabric for baby gifts, Saturday night having a nice dinner with my man, and to top it off, was hired for my first paying writing assignment.

In the end, I got the job of my dreams after all! 

  

 

 

 

Memories of Dinner at Grandma's

I come from a large extended family of aunts, uncles, and cousins.  On most Sundays and many holidays when I was a little girl, we would gather at my grandmother's for dinner.  Grandma would spend all day Saturday, and Sunday morning, in the kitchen making homemade noodles,breads, rolls, cakes, puddings, along with roasts, chicken, mashed potatoes and vegetables - you name it - it would most likely be on the table for Sunday dinner.
Grandma didn't spend all this time making all this food because she was an overachiever, she made it to please her large family.  If a cousin didn't like potatoes, he or she would eat the noodles.  If a uncle was on a restricted diet and couldn't have beef, he ate chicken. If an aunt was allergic to chocolate, there was yellow cake for her to eat. As my mom always said: "If you left Grandma's house on Sunday evening hungry, it was your own fault."
This saying was passed on to my mom's house after she became a grandma.  When Mom hosted dinners for her family she always made sure that she cooked something that everyone liked.  For Jennifer, there was always green beans or a salad since she didn't like corn or peas.  At a cook-out, Mom always made a dish of scalloped potatoes for my husband, Leonard, since he didn't like macaroni or potato salad.  People could choose between regular and decaf coffee.  When my dad wasn't able to eat ham for Christmas Eve dinner, Mom made ham and chicken.  But what people talk about the most are Mom's pies.  Mom never made less than five different kinds of pies for Thanksgiving and my dad's birthday!  My girls always knew that the dinner table at their grandmas would have a dish of some kind that they liked to eat.
Now that I am a grandma (Gan), I understand my mother and grandmother's willingness to please their families and make sure that there is food on the table everyone likes to eat and can eat.  When we found out that Ben was allergic to dairy, I created ways (with Hollie's guidance) that he could sit down to meal and enjoy it as much as the other kids.  When I make macaroni and cheese, I take some of the macaroni and mix it with a butter substitute for Ben.  This happens to be one of Ben's favorite dishes at Gma's!  I also use the same butter substitute to bake cookies and muffins so Ben can enjoy them also. Amy's IBS acts up when she eats Italian or spicy dishes, so I try to be sure I make something for Amy that she likes and can eat.  Riley can't handle anything whipped such as Cool Whip or the cream in Ho-Ho's, but she loves "Papa's Favorite Cookies" (Vanilla Oreos).  Hollie is a vegetarian, which means that she and Ben do not eat any meat other than chicken or turkey.  The whole family loves turkey meatloaf now much better than meatloaf made with ground beef.  Cuppy cones are enjoyed by all the kids - Ben's ice cream just comes from a different carton just as Papa's ice cream usually comes from a different carton than Jennifer's or Gma's.  Birthdays are more special now because there are usually two cakes instead of one.  There are usually three kinds of butter or margarine on the table, various fruits and vegetables, etc.
In the past eight years my family has grown from five, to eight, to twelve.  Within the next year or so, I expect this number to increase by at least two or three more. I'm sure the list of special items will also grow. In my home,  family dinners are on Tuesday nights instead of Sunday afternoons. Christmas Eve dinner now includes ham and chicken, birthdays are celebrated with not just one, but two cakes, and the grandkids know that there will be special treats that they can ALL enjoy.  Just like my grandmother and mother, I enjoy cooking for my family, and I do the best I can to please everyone who sits at my table.
I hope that I can make as many happy memories for my grandchildren as my grandma did for me, and I hope they enjoy being a part of a large family as much as I did!
And Mom, I understand now why you always made so much food!




 

Teach Them to be Proud of "ME"

All I wanted to do was make Mommy happy, which seemed to be a hard thing for me to do. She always seemed to be upset with me for something; I didn’t make my bed the right way, I got in her way when she was cooking dinner, I walked home from school to slowly, I asked too many questions, I didn’t go to sleep when she put me to bed. I knew Mommy did not feel good because her back hurt her all the time, so I just wanted to do something to make her happy and proud of me. 

I thought making her a Valentine’s heart in her favorite color would make her happy. I asked Mommy what her favorite color was, and set to work coloring the heart. I worked slowly, coloring with little strokes, making sure the edges of the heart were even. I signed my name on the heart in my best printing, and excitedly handed it to her. 

Mommy cried. Then she got angry. Then she threw the card on the table and told me “thanks for letting me know I break your heart!” 

Mommy’s favorite color was blue. I didn’t know it then, and didn’t understand until many years later, that blue hearts meant broken hearts. 

But at seven years old – all I knew was Mommy’s favorite color was blue and I wanted to make her a heart in her favorite color. Once again, I had failed my mother.

I loved my mother dearly, but she had expectations that I just couldn't live up to. Mom saw life in black and white; I saw life as a rainbow of colors. Even though on most days she could barely move because of intense back pain, she still cleaned, cooked, did laundry, etc. And she did these chores within standards she set for herself, and expected me to follow. Towels folded a certain way, bedspreads tucked neatly under, then over pillows. Dishes were to be dried by towel, not left on the counter to air dry. When Mom was baking for a holiday, I was not allowed to help – she wanted it done her way. I was constantly afraid that I would do something wrong and become the focus of Mom’s Irish temper, or worse, she would take me for another long ride on one of her guilt trips.

As an adult, I understand that much of my mother’s need for perfection came from 1) learned behavior, 2) frustration from being in constant pain, and 3) emotional abuse she suffered from my father. Not long before Mom died, she asked me why I always felt like everything was my fault. Out of nowhere the image of that blue Valentine surfaced, and I realized that was where the feeling began. Yet, I didn’t have the courage to tell Mom this because it would open a Pandora’s Box of hurt feelings between both of us.   

Mothers nurture their babies in their wombs for nine months. When these tiny, innocent beings are placed in their mother’s arms for the first time, they only expect to be loved and cared for. By the time mothers hold their baby, they already have a long list of how this child is going to meet their expectations. It’s very sad that we try to turn these innocent little babies into clones of what we want them to be.

I’m not sure how my daughters grade me as a mother, but I’m certain that as moms themselves there are things I did or said to them that they have vowed not to do with their own children. However, I do know that my daughters are not afraid to talk to me, disagree with me, or follow their own path in life, whether I like it or not.  For this, I am proud, and feel good about the job I did as their mom.

It’s taken me a long time to be proud of myself, and I realized not too long ago that I wanted to instill the sense of being proud into my children and grandchildren’s mind. I now tell them, you should be proud of yourself for…because I believe that it is more important they learn to be proud of themselves then to worry about making others proud of them.

I say this constantly to my grandchildren, but last week for the first time, I said it to my daughter, Hollie, author of the blog, “Treehugging Redhead.”

[http://treehuggingredhead.blogspot.com] Hollie went on a ‘sugarless” diet for a month to see what it was like and wrote about it on her blog. Truthfully, this is not a challenge I would have taken on (the Ice Cream diet is more my speed) but this was Hollie, one of my three daughters that I pledged to make independent and creative. Hollie went through the whole month cutting out as much sugar as the food industry allows, and instead of writing “I’m proud of you” I wrote, “You should be very proud of yourself!”

I also want my oldest daughter, Jennifer, to be very proud of herself for handling two active toddlers with patience and grace.  And Amy, my youngest, who thought she would "kill" every flower she touched, be proud of yourself for growing such beautiful flowers in your front flower garden!

Sometime in life, we are going to run into people who will always find fault with what we do. Sadly, some of us will meet these people when we are children and they will be the people that we will try the hardest to please: parents, teachers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends. Hopefully these children will have a encouraging person in their lives who loves them unconditionally, and will not only tell the child how proud they are of the child’s accomplishments, but will also remind the child that, “You should be very proud of yourself!” 

55 Things I Want To Do Before I Turn 56

I write lists all the time - grocery lists, to-do lists, Christmas card and gift lists, I've even wrote a bucket list.  But I always seem to lose the lists I write and have to write them out again.  The other day while reading my daughter's blog of her 101 Things to do before...I can't remember when her deadline was...I came up with The "55 Things I Want to Do Before I Turn 56" list.  To be sure I don't lose this list I decided to post it here on my blog.
Some items on my list may seem insignificant to others, but what follows is a list of what is important to ME. Enjoy and look for updates as I complete each item on my list!

Gan's Top 55 Things
1. Update this blog three days a week for a whole year.  I figure if I do it for a year then the habit of blogging will be in my blood!

2. Attend a weekend Writers Retreat.  I hear such great comments about these retreats that it's time for me enjoy one for myself!

3. Lose 25 pounds.  No explanation needed.

4. Become a paid writer.  My goal, my dream.  It's time to make it come true.

5. Spend a weekend in DC.  Can you believe I've never been to our nation's Capital??

6. Finish Hollie's afghan.  I promised Hollie a crocheted afghan when she went away to college, when she graduated college, when she and Mikey married, for her 30th birthday.  Somehow, someway, my daughter is getting her afghan before my 56th birthday!

7. Write a novel.  Okay, maybe not a complete novel...how 'bout a novella?

8. Help build a house with Habitat for Humanity.  Helping people and working with my hands - Awesome!

9. Start going church every Sunday. Someplace where I can communicate with the "Big Guy" and not feel that every move I make and every thought I have is going to send me to Hell.

10. Land a permanent job.  I love the job I have now, but it's only temporary.

11. Have each grandchild spend the weekend at Papa/Gan's alone.  

12. Repaint our bedroom.  The feather-painted walls have lost their shine.

13. Have a whole weekend with nothing to do!  I can hear my children laughing at this one!

14. Fill every page in a journal.  I own so many journals that I could open my own Journal Shop!

15. Have a garage sale and get rid of all the stuff we no longer use.  

16. Put a blanket on the lawn and sit and gaze at the sky for hours.  Or at least until I fall asleep!

17. Go on a picnic in the Metro Parks.  Every summer I say that we are going to pack dinner and spend the evening in the park, but before I know it summer is gone.

18. Take the grandkids sled riding.

19. Spend a week at Virginia Beach with the whole family.  Well, if the whole family can't, I'm going!!

20. Visit the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame.  Went when it first opened but haven't been back since.

21. Find a Yoga class and go every week.

22. Teach my granddaughters yoga.

23. Meditate once a day.

24. Spend a weekend in Pennsylvania visiting all the places I lived or stayed and take pictures.

25. Complete a scrapbook for each grandchild.

26. Organize all the family photos.  And there are a lot!

27. Make Taco Salad for Wednesday night dinner at Papa/Gan's.  Zach is waiting patiently for this meal!

28. Have a family portrait taken.  I really do need the whole family to cooperate for this one!

29. Go on an all day motorcycle ride with Papa.

30. Take a walk in the snow with all the grandkids.  

31. Spend 30 minutes every day writing for a whole year. (See # 1)
32. Spend an afternoon in the Metro Parks taking photos with my "old-fashion" 35mm camera.
33. Take my laptop to a coffee shop and write stories about the customers.  I will leave Papa at home - he gets embarrassed when I people-watch!
34. Spend a holiday serving food at a soup kitchen.
35. Join a writers society.
36. Spend a summer evening at Coventry.  For those who are not from Cleveland, Coventry is home to a wonderful community of artists!
37. Take the grandkids to Great Lakes Science Museum.
38. Watch all of "Gone With the Wind" in one evening.  I've seen the whole movie - just not straight through!
39. Write my "farewell" letters to my family.  Maybe a bit morbid, but something I want to do!
40. Go roller skating.  So what's a few more broken bones?
41. Extend the front porch.  Need room for another rocker!
42. Adopt a puppy.  (I can hear Papa yelling now!)
43. Dance in the rain with my grandkids.  EVERYONE should dance in the rain with their kids or grandkids once in their life!
44. Eat lobster.  I've never ate lobster and think I should try it at least once in this life!
45. Learn Spanish.
46. Design a website from scratch.
47. Sing Karaoke.  Well, at least here at home with the grandkids!
48. See the War end.
49. See the oil leak in the Gulf capped.
50. Watch the sunrise with my granddaughters. (Actually, I think I've done this already but was too sleepy to notice!)
51. Learn to knit.  Maybe I will finish projects faster working with two needles!
52. Stay Healthy!
53. Fingerpaint.  You know, I don't think I ever fingerpainted as a child!
54. Find my center.
55. Complete all of the above.