Ode To My Eldest, O Boy of My Loins!

:)

See, I believe that one of the things parents are FOR, is to embarrass their children into toughness.

I think the world is tough and it's important to build a bit of an exoskeleton to deal with it.

I think EVERYONE gets bullied.

I remember the first three times in life that I got made fun of.  Fifty years later, I remember.

The first was when I rode to school on the bus the first day, and found out that kids are mean. And they called my sweet quiet gentle sister "Bird," and me, "Lizard."

Another was when all the Kindergarteners in my class got weighed and measured.  Back in those days, you stood in a line and the school nurse announced your height and weight to the world. And kids decided whether or not to make fun of you for being different. Thank you, Mrs. Mushrush.

The other was when I got out of my school bus one day (which for half day Kindergarteners was a red station wagon), and one of the neighbor boys told me I should run down my lane so he could see how fast I could go.  I didn't realize that I wasn't fast, and that the little boys were laughing until the SECOND time they asked me to do it.

So...did I grow an exoskeleton?  Yeah...but it's pretty much invisible, and goodness can pass right through it.  And I hope THAT part of me, the goodness I send out to people, is never invisible.

Anyway.

Twenty-one years, four months, twenty-three days and some hours and minutes ago, I had a baby.
That little boy had, some hours earlier than that, expressed to me that he was not a Ryan Nicholas, but rather, a Nicholas Ryan.  And so he is.

I could tell you a lot of stories of his childhood.  It might even embarrass him.  But probably not. He's tough.

Mostly, I just want to say that he has exceeded my wildest expectations.

See...he's brilliant.  He is an artist and a musician.  A mathematician and a writer. A chef and a designer.  A train enthusiast and architect.   A composer and a romanticist.  A Renaissance man, and a GOOD man.

See, when he started getting all A's in his classes at school, I told him something I think is the most important thing for a human being to know. I said that the grades didn't count for anything unless he was a good person.  NOTHING else counts unless you can love and be kind to people.

I believe that with all my heart.  When I was teaching, I thought, every day, about my words to students, and how I could be careful to use them to teach, but more important, to be kind.  I know I didn't always succeed. But I KNOW how important it is.

And apparently Nick got it.  He got it so well.  Because there is another side of the this coin.  Because I know that if you ARE kind, you draw kindness to yourself.  Not bullying.  Not that kind people aren't bullied.  But I think people with real love in their hearts...who feel love and give love can withstand bad stuff.  Whether it be bullying, or unkindness, illness, poverty, divorce.

Love is an armor.  It's the best exoskeleton of all.

I can see it on my son, even though it's probably invisible to others. It SHINES.

The best thing about having this kind of exoskeleton, I think, is that it allows you to feel JOY in so many things.

Tonight, Nick texted me.  He had a concerto competition.  I was waiting to hear how he had done. His texts to me were:

Of course, he had to tease me first.  Teasing is part of our game of toughness.  But it's not unkind.  

I am so fortunate.  I take a teeny tiny bit of credit for the man that Nick is.  I gave him my joy in being creative, my musical ear (although his is much better).  And I think I gave him my ability to love and be loved.  My strength to withstand the bad stuff, and grow and be happy in either a garden of good, or rocky, soil.  

And I hope he knows that these gifts, which I am so happy to see manifested in him, come from the grace of our Creator.  Jesus had an exoskeleton, too.  And he knew when to use it.  And when to put it down.  

Anyway, like I said, I could fill this post with amusing or embarrassing anecdotes, like how he used to say "Hanguber" for hamburger, or how he used to be the EPI-TOME (rhymes with Rome) of vocabulary experts.  But I will not.  Because to me, he is everything a mother could ask for.  I mean, really...just look upon him....

Nick, I am so lucky that I get to be your mom.  Since the start.  I was there.  You were big!

Sorry, Nick, I stole your profile picture...actually, I'm not sorry, because you are cute!

The musician  <-----please click here.  

I love you, love you, love you, boy of mine.

Amen.

The Last Day of Winter---I LOVE WINTER

I can officially say it now.  I LOVE winter in the UP.

I know, all you Yoopers will say that I really haven't seen winter in the UP, because this one was so mild.  In fact, you will probably say that this is the mildest winter that has ever been.  OKAY.

I know how this works.  Because this is something even people from IOWA do, okay?  When you tell your winter stories, you don't tell about the ones that were mild.  You tell about the one where it snowed in October and never stopped until June.  You tell about the one where the snow was three times the height of you cars on each side of the road. You tell about 300 or 400 inches of snow. In Iowa, we tell about 60 below wind chills and ice storms so bad, we didn't have power for weeks.  I can also remember riding to school on a one lane road with snow taller than our car.  I remember LOTS of snow days.

So I know about bad winters.  I also know about mild winters.  Like this one WAS.  You know, the one I just lived and thrived through!

I know it will snow some more yet. I know the cold weather will last a long time.   Last June I woke up a couple of mornings at camp to frost so hard, it crunched under my feet on my way to the outhouse at camp.  But, really...what's not to love?

Yesterday, we took a LONG drive across the Upper Peninsula to see if we could find some migrating Snowy Owls.  On the way, we stopped at Marquette and drove along Lake Shore Boulevard out to Presque Isle.  For the last day of winter, it was a brilliantly sunny, relatively mild day.  And honestly, I could have stayed there all day taking pictures, but we still had miles and miles to go, so I just took a few.

Picnic Rocks (would you have a picnic here?)

Marquette lighthouse

waves

more waves

Presque Isle lighthouse

ice-making waves

sun on the waves

the view from Presque Isle

waves

I mean, honestly, blissful, right? I am wondering why it took me so long to get out there.  We will be back! 

Anyway, we got back on the road and drove and drove, through Munising, through Newberry, all the way to Rudyard, where we were told we'd find the passing-by area for migrating snowy owls.  

Unfortunately, we got there early in the afternoon, which is not a good time to find Snowys, as they will lay low during the day, and become more active late in the afternoon into the twilight. We drove about the area, and saw no owls, and honestly, I thought we would make the long trip home without seeing a single one.  We saw a few good birds, including some Rough-legged Hawks who refused to pose for us, plus a gorgeous male Northern Harrier Hawk...a gray ghost, who was flying too far away for ME to be able to get a decent shot.

really bad pictures

of a beautiful bird....look it up sometimes...other people have great pictures, even if I don't!

I also have a short video of him catching something and eating it, but it's not very clear, either. Plus, you might think it's gross. I have a good tolerance for gross...I live with boys.

 Anyway, I also thought this guy was pretty cute

imagine Cher singing "Little man..."

AND, I learned the totally mod way of tapping maple trees.  At first, I thought some crazy person had run around in a forest with a really LONG plastic jump rope.  

really, really long jump rope

But then I noticed that the trees were tapped, and the light bulb went on (in my head, not in the forest).

this is so cool...I had no idea

It made me wish I had my own big forest to make maple syrup from. 

Anyway, the afternoon went by quickly, and we were planning on hitting the hot spot road ONE MORE TIME before leaving without seeing an owl...when...suddenly...

a snowy!!!

And, while I was photographing this one, I noticed another on the ground next to it.  

this is where they seem to like to hang out the best...in the fence rows, where the grass is taller.  

All of a sudden it seemed like they were everywhere!  We saw and photographed 11 in a very short time within a mile so of each other.

Something I should say about these pics.  Snowy Owls are easily stressed birds.  They don't mind vehicles so much, but don't like being approached by humans on foot. Therefore, I took all my pics from the car, and didn't stick around by any one bird for very long.  And, I won't show you all my pics, since some are from WAY far away.  

it is....a little white male...believe me

And this one...well...

I don't blame you for not believing, but there is one sleeping right there, really

My two faves were a beautiful male out in the middle of the section....I liked him so much I made a movie about it.

pure white and I wonder if he knows how gorgeous he is

and please check out my snowy owl movie!

When I made this movie, my count was all off, and what I thought was my 7th or 8th owl was the 10th. 

By far, the best pictures I took were of Snowy number 7, but I sort of have mixed feelings when I look at them.  She (I'm pretty sure she's a she) was sitting right alongside someone's house in a pile of junk there....you can see some kitchen chairs among other stuff.  Honestly, she was so close, I thought she must be a plastic fake owl until she moved.  

they often sit on piles of junk...I know that's strange

she's gorgeous, but the sun was bright, and she was stoic

Anyway, I said I have mixed feelings, because we were not the only people to see her, and while we stayed in our car and took a few shots, other people got out of their car and approached her with their ginormous lenses to photograph her nose hairs, I guess. One woman was all excited, because it was late in the afternoon, and they knew she would "fly soon."  I knew she would fly soon, because after we left and drove by again later, there were was practically a traffic jam outside of people taking photos and talking loudly, and....well....I just didn't think it was right. 

As we were driving through the traffic jam, I took one more photo, and honestly, I don't feel good about the fact that it was my best photo of the day.  Because she had moved, and was watching the people who were watching her watch them....

God creates such gorgeous creatures

Anyway, I hope she's okay, and that she rests up and catches some mousies or whatever else will sustain her until she returns to the land of lemmings and ptarmigans. 

So...this was the last day of winter for me.  A beautiful, but very long drive (got home after midnight, which is really late for an old fogey like me!). And the chance to experience some of the best (and God has lots of bests) of creation, breath-taking nature and awesome owls.  

I wonder what Spring will bring :)

It's ALL In Your Head

Yesterday afternoon, while sitting on the couch on a lazy Sunday afternoon, I had a tiny little breakdown, I think.  And I wrote this:

I wonder sometimes if I am just weird.

I know everyone is unique and that certainly is a good thing.

I think I am experiencing some late winter doldrums.

But I'm okay with it...after all, it's just something different.

I got my hair majorly cut yesterday.

It is a wavy A-line long bob...shorter in the back, longer in the front.

Strangely fashionable for someone like me.

I think the doldrums had me wanting a change.

Imagine being on a sailing ship, and suddenly finding yourself in an area of slight, changeable, fitful winds.  That's what doldrums really means.

Enough to make a person crazy.

My problem is, I have things I want to be doing, and other things that I could be doing, but that seem boring or uninspired.

Unfortunately, some of things I want to do right now are projects that take money that I don't have.

Or Spring things that it is just tooo early to contemplate, like starting some seeds for my garden.

So spin, spin, spin go the wheels.

No new birds to photograph.

And I miss my camp.

And I miss my big boy in Iowa, who is off to Italy in THREE DAYS.

And I miss my friends, some of whom have teased me by suggesting a visit....in JULY.

Sooo....what to do with my Sunday afternoon?

I could stare across the room at my lovely husband, who is happily busy writing stories, while my novel is sort of in a stuck spot that it's hard to write around.

I could go to my Pinterest pins and plan and plan my next projects for WHENEVER it is the right time and I have the money to work on them.

I could dust my dusty living room shelves....but....NO.

I could get lost in reading a book until the day is done...which, right now, seems like I'd be wasting the day.

Or I could type my frustrations out on this page....so here they are!

So doesn't that sound a little wacky or what?  I vote for wacky.  In the end, it turned out okay, because shortly after I wrote that stuff, Bob showed me a short story that he was working on.  In it, he was trying to write about something from a woman's point of view...and, for a guy :) he was doing pretty well, so I decided to rewrite it from an actual real live woman's point of view, which I thought was even better.  Then he rewrote his story from a man's point of view, which I think turned out pretty funny.  Because there was a HUGE difference in our points of view. It led to a wonderful discussion about men and women and emotions, and the ways we deal with problems.

The best part about all this was thinking about how well our two different outlooks mesh together. As part of our discussion, we talked about how much fun it would be to write some more stories like this, with two separate points of view. So, I guess that's just a reminder to everyone that our stuff is copyrighted here, because we might be using these ideas for something at some point....but anyway, I wanted to share yesterday's writing efforts  So here are our two takes on the same (mostly fictional) story:

The Gift 

by Elizabeth Peterson

We couldn’t afford a Christmas tree that year.  But in the spot where it would’ve stood, crammed into the corner of our small living room, I found a package. Sigh….

Obviously my husband had wrapped it himself.  Big crooked red bow, wrinkly wrapping paper with tons of tape.  What in the world was he thinking?

We had agreed, after all.  This year, in the midst of moving and starting a new business, we didn’t even have money to keep up with our bills, let alone buy presents.  So we had decided together, I thought.  No presents until we got back on our feet financially. Yet...three days before Christmas...here it was.

I picked it up and shook it.  It was a medium sized box, but fairly light.  What could it be?  If he hadn’t put so much tape on it, I would have pulled back just a corner to see what the box said on the outside. Damn.

Tears in my eyes, anger, hurt.  He had AGREED.  No presents.  And here I was three days out, bad weather, no car, no money. He knew I couldn’t reciprocate. I just KNEW he would do something like this.

After all, he spent so much of his time just doing things to be NICE to me.  And as much as I tried to be as nice as him, I feared that in my heart, I was, and would always be, a selfish person.  I didn’t deserve a man who was always doing things to make my life easier.  Why was he doing that?  It just made me angry.

When he came home from a long day of work, I was loaded for bear. He was cheerful...he was always cheerful.  How could he be cheerful when we were sinking into debt that we couldn’t get out of?  His business was just getting started, and I knew he had probably not earned any money that day.  My business just wasn’t going anywhere, and I certainly wasn’t making money.  I had prepared supper, but begrudgingly.  I was crabby and snapped short answers when he attempted conversation. I watched him eat and then I quickly cleaned up and went to our bedroom to “read.”

But I couldn’t read.  My eyes kept filling with tears.  I was just so worried about everything all the time.  It made me not want to do anything, and certainly not deal with his cheerfulness. When he came to bed later, I pretended to be asleep, but then, after he started snoring, continued reading until I finally could block out my emotions and fall asleep.  

I slept late the next day, staying in bed until I was sure he had left for work.  And then I looked at the present again.  I felt I needed to know what it was, how much money he had spent that we didn’t really have.  I was sure he had maxed out one of our credit cards, which had such a high interest rate that we would never pay it off, and plus, we had said that money was for EMERGENCIES.  What if something happened and one of us got sick?  I guess if I was sick, I would just have to tough it out.  If I needed something, I would just do without.  If I really WANTED something, like a nice haircut from somewhere other than Great Clips, or some new clothes or shoes, or, God forbid, earrings or any other kind of jewelry, it was never gonna happen.  Damn it.

I knew he was trying.  He was working hard trying to find money for us.  In fact, he was trying harder than me.  I just wished he wouldn’t DO things like this.  I didn’t need anything else to feel guilty about.  

Finally, armed with more Scotch tape and a sharp scissors, I decided to do some investigating.  I slit the end of the wrapping paper right where the tape started and gently pulled it open just enough to read the writing on the box. A mixer? I had talked about needing a new one. But, why a mixer?  Probably could have paid an overdue bill instead.  That way I might stop getting one of the many collection calls that we were plagued with every day.  

So many emotions were building up, I knew I could never explain them to him.  So I decided to just be silent.  Not speak unless spoken to. Not let him know all the anger and hurt and guilt I was feeling.  Like I usually did if something was bothering me.  But this was more difficult.  

Because he somehow had the Christmas spirit.  He found free things we could do to celebrate.  Like watching Christmas movies on television together.  Or driving around in his truck, which was still running, but barely, and looking at other people’s Christmas lights. How could I enjoy the lights when I was thinking every minute that the transmission might be going out on his truck, and then what would we do?

I could see him looking at me from time to time.  Apparently, he could see something was not right, but of course he didn’t understand.  He always told me not to worry, he always tried to keep the worrisome aspects of our financial situation to himself so I wouldn’t have to deal with them.  But I did deal with them.  Every day they were in my thoughts.

Things didn’t get any better on Christmas Eve.  We had decided to go to midnight Mass, and I just wasn’t looking forward to it.  I felt like Ebeneezer Scrooge...humbug.  I tried to sing along with the Christmas carols, but my voice kept breaking.  I had tears in my eyes most of the time.  What was wrong with me?  I listened to Father’s sermon about opening our hearts to Jesus, and to everyone in our lives...how we should have a generous spirit.  

I looked down at my lap where my tears started to fall and make dark spots.  I didn’t want my husband to notice. I had been crying on and off for the last three days, looking at that damned present.  After all, he WAS the spirit of generosity, and I was simply NOT.

It came time for the sign of peace.  I knew that he would do more than shake my hand, especially since it was Christmas.  I looked up into his face, his goofy grin and sincere eyes.  I hugged him hard and kissed his cheek.  I would try harder to be as good as him.

Christmas day, I woke up early to the sounds of him making breakfast.  It smelled like he was even baking something to go along with his usual protein packed breakfast of choice.  Fine.  I got dressed and gave him a hug...grudgingly.  

As I sat down at the table with my first necessary cup of coffee, he went and picked up the present and set it in front of me.  

“I told you not to do this.”  I said, accusingly. “We promised.’

“Just open your present,” he said cheerfully.  Always cheerful.

I ripped open the present, sighing. Sure enough, a mixer box.  I noticed, though, that it had been opened.  I tore through the tape he had put on the top and found a strange mix of things inside.  Packing peanuts, a few rocks from some travels we had taken years ago.  And a note.

My hands started shaking as I started reading.  It said:

I love you.  Even though we cannot afford  a present this year, you deserve a present.  You are the love of my life.  Together we can get through this troubling time. You are the best wife a husband could ever have.  I don’t know how you put up with me, but somehow you do.  I promise that by next year, we will have a beautiful Christmas tree with lots of presents. Regardless, it is not the presents that matter.  We are together.  I love you every day, more and more.

My tears overflowed as I read the last words, and I stood up and opened my arms to my wonderful husband.  I always knew he was the best that a woman ever had, and I loved everything about him.  What a perfect gift. It didn’t matter that we had no money.  I had him, and apparently, for some reason, he loved me.  I would try to do everything I could to be deserving of his love.  Merry Christmas.

and

The Gift

by Bob Peterson

I knew we couldn’t afford to exchange gifts that year.  We couldn’t even afford a Christmas tree, but she really deserved something for Christmas.  I thought long and hard and finally came up with a gift for her.  I carefully wrapped the present.   I can never wrap a gift like the department store does, but I still thought I did a great job.  After all, the present was completely covered with blue wrapping paper, and I even put a pretty red bow on top.  I must say, it was one of the best jobs of wrapping that I had ever done.  I was proud of the wrapping even though there were a few minor flaws.  I placed the present where the Christmas tree should have been, in the corner of our living room.  Three days before Christmas, I had successfully overcome the challenge of having no money and yet still provided my wife with a present.

I know we had agreed to a “No Presents Policy” that year, but this WAS the perfect gift.  We could afford it and she’d love it.  I was sure that it would help lift her spirits during the Christmas period.  It would help get her mind off the bills piling up on the desk and the constant collection calls.  Anything that I could do to make her happy I would gladly do.

We had both started new businesses, and the money had not yet started coming in.  It was disappointing not to have money at Christmas, but we would make it through somehow.  I was sure of that.  A present would be the perfect antidote to the wintery weather, the problem truck, and lack of money.  I was proud that I had gotten her the perfect present.  She would be so pleased when she unwrapped the present. 

She worked so hard to get things done around the house and at work.  I wished that I could relieve her of some of that burden and worry.  Yet, I knew that our hard work would pay off eventually.  It was just a matter of time.  Meanwhile, I would continue to do things to make her life happier and provide for her.  She was the love of my life and the center of my life.  I would do anything for her.  I knew that she would be so happy with this present.

As I drove home from work, I thought about the present.  I wondered if she had any idea what was in the present.  I knew that she would be pleased so I could hardly wait to surprise her.  As I drove, I was trying to think of any other presents that I might be able to provide her.  The money wasn’t there for much else, though.  Maybe next year.

When I got home, I tried to talk to her, but she was a little on the grumpy side.  She must have had a bad day at work.  So I let it pass.  Even with her bad day, she still made an excellent meal which I thoroughly enjoyed, so I complimented and thanked her for the great meal.  She said something short, and then went to bed early to read.  She loved to read, so I left her alone to read her latest novel.  She always got so much enjoyment from reading those novels.  Meanwhile, I cleaned up the house a little and sat down to watch something boring on television to kill time until bed and chill down from a stressful day.

After watching who knows what for who knows how long, I finally had chilled out and decided to go to bed.  She was already asleep, so I quietly snuck into bed and promptly went to sleep myself.  When I awoke the next day, she was still asleep, so I quietly arose, got dressed, made coffee for her, and then ate my breakfast.  After eating, I quietly tiptoed out the door and left for work.  It was a beautiful morning.  I briefly wondered why I never told anyone how happy I was.  I shrugged it off—it was a guy thing. Everyone knew anyway.

As I drove to work, I was singing Christmas carols.  I was in the Christmas spirit.  Even though we had no money, I was busy thinking of things that we could do for free.  There was a Christmas special on television that night.  We could take a drive in my truck and see the beautiful Christmas lights.  Although my truck was having a few problems, I had been successful at keeping it running. It would probably last another 100,000 miles if I kept at it.  Life was good.

When I got home that night, she seemed to be a little upset.  When she got upset, it was always best to give her a little space.  When she wanted to talk, she would.  But in the meanwhile, just let it be.  I had the feeling that her mood had to do with the bills.  Perhaps she received another of those pesky collection calls?  I’d take care of the bills, I assured her and then went to watch television and chill out.   I wish the collectors would listen. I would take care of the bills without their never-ending nuisance calls.

On Christmas Eve, we went to midnight Mass.  It was beautiful.  I loved Christmas Mass with the beautiful carols, the readings, and the sermon.  Everyone was always so cheerful at the service.  It was one of the best times of year.  I noticed that she had tears in her eyes.  She must have been moved by the service too!  At the time for the sign of peace, we hugged, and kissed.  She was as happy as I was.  I was so glad.

On Christmas morning, I woke early and cooked breakfast for her.  I made a special breakfast and even baked some muffins.  I usually have lots of protein for breakfast, but she loves her carbs, so I made sure the breakfast had lots of carbohydrates, just for her.  The sounds of the breakfast cooking must have woken her up, because she got dressed and gave me a morning hug.  I poured her some coffee and then grabbed the present and set it down in front of her.  She kidded me about our agreement not to get presents, but I just told her that she needed to open the present and all would be well.

She tore open the present as eagerly as a kid at Christmas, and saw the box.  She looked stunned—a mixer?  But I told her to continue on.  I had filled a mixer box with all sorts of things—rocks, packing supplies, and other items to fill up and give the box some weight.  That way she could never guess what the present was. I was so mischievous.  But most importantly inside the box, I had placed a note that I had written as her present:

I love you.  Even though we cannot afford a present this year, you deserve a present.  You are the love of my life.  Together we can get through this troubling time. You are the best wife a husband could ever have.  I don’t know how you put up with me, but somehow you do.  I promise that by next year, we will have a beautiful Christmas tree with lots of presents. Regardless, it is not the presents that matter.  We are together.  I love you every day, more and more.

She loved the present.  She stood up and we hugged and kissed.  I think I found the perfect present that year, regardless of our financial situation. At least temporarily, money was not a concern.  I loved her so much, and would always try to give her everything that she deserved.  I think that year, I succeeded.

...and a very very belated Christmas and happy late winter doldrums to you!

P.S.  Here are today's "Daily Eagle" pics.  Incidentally, they are a couple, too.

I think this is Missus Eagle

So this must be Mister, doing his best totem pole imitation