The Reluctant Red Nose

I remember when I was five and kindergarten was all that mattered. I loved school…and it wasn’t because I learned how to write my name..it was the desk and the school supplies..but it was truly because of the social activities. It was because of the friends. It was always about the friends. Nap time was stupid…back then we laid on a towel…on a cement floor. You read that right…towel…cement floor. By the time my man cub came along. It was like he was bringing an extra bed from home…but the kids who grew up in the 80s…we got to lay on a towel. I can’t even imagine how they thought we would ever go to sleep…but they did…and I never did take a nap. Still, I absolutely loved school.

At that time, I had my friends….wore my Zip shoes and hated all boys. We played tag for recess and screamed as the boys chased us and tried not to get the skin burned off our legs while going down the tornado slide.

I was close to my sister…and my family was everything. My friends were many and my enemies few..as I became older…that list has changed…and no matter how much I dislike it…I think that’s how it will always be.

I have childhood friends I still talk to but we are spread apart and sometimes life seems to busy to take the time to just go and visit…that sounds so amazing right now. Sit with friends who you don’t have to explain anything to. Just start where you left off. No judgment.

I am so tired of explaining myself. I’m tired of how people are with success and failures. If you succeed they hate you…if you fail they love you..but they only pretend to love you. They in fact just want to gain knowledge to use against you as they tell others how you have failed. I can’t even begin to tell you how often I have fell for that.

Why are women such hateful people? We have the power to build up but instead many spend their lives spreading lies…making their groups bigger as they continue to spread lies…and people buy it. They buy every bit of it. I no longer sit around and listen to any of that…I’m not involved with those that gossip…I don’t have time for it.

If you want to talk bad about me…I cannot stop you. However, can I just say…what kind of person just sits around and listens to someone speak badly about another and never question it?

As a business owner, I have a reputation…and at this point in the game I could not tell you what it is. As a soapmaker and clown, keyboard player and homeschool Mom…but there is freedom in your 40’s….a little anyway.

I don’t sit around most nights and think about it the people who dislike me. But it does bother me. I hate for people not like me…but….

If I’m not anything worthwhile then I’m sure to find a flock of women not caring one bit about me. However, if I’m doing the right thing…I’m going to cause an uproar…and in the middle of that uproar…you will find your flock.

The flock that doesn’t sweet talk you. They give you a hard push. The flock that shows up at your store in lawn chairs to attract a crowd (it worked and it was awesome). The flock that bakes cookies, that brings you medicine when your so sick you think you are going to die. The flock that brings you popsicles, watches your kids like they are their own. That takes you to dinner that does life with you…that you share your darkest deepest secrets with and they still show up to fight for you….that’s your flock.

The ones that will tell you that dress does nothing for you. The one that will tell you that they can see muscles in your arms finally…your nail polish Rocks and that zit needs a bit more cover up…those…are…your people.

The massage therapist that gives you great advice, the hair stylist who cries with you…these are your flock.

Why do we give so much care and thought and worry to the ones not in our flock? Why does it matter so much to us the thoughts of a few…when we already know so many that never bought those lies…

I want to throw my life and all my activities into the circle of the “flock”. Those that when we sit together we talk about each other and not others. We come up with plans…not tearing down of others. Those that want to change the world not burn it down. Those that encourage me to be the absolute best I can be instead of telling me all the different ways I have failed.

There will always be “mean girls.” but perhaps one woman at a tome we can change that.

The theme for this year is push past it. Push past the pounds you gained during quarantine. Push past the stress that the world is putting on all of us right now…just keep pushing.

There are days…I’m done pushing. I can’t take one more negative feedback, one more person telling me where I failed…or one more wrinkle just daring me to give up.

There are days I feel like superwoman. I can manage my sales floor, help my husband manage our store, play every note perfect on the keyboard for church, and feel completely in the zone when I clown. I contribute eloquently during our weekly Bible Study, and then lead a successful meeting. Arrive to my appointments on time and remember to drop off all soap orders for my second business to all those asking. I can have all papers graded for homeschooling and get all checks out and matching invoices with no issues or mistakes whatsoever. I can go to meetings and listen and encourage instead of taking up all the time…and then…other weeks…

I feel as if I should just set a match to everything. I forget to drop my child at youth or get there thirty minutes later. Forget to clown at an event I promised I would be at…forget appointments and lessons and go weeks without working out and eating cupcakes.

I have yet to experience the super woman weeks..but I hear they are amazing.

I have to push past this week that is filled with busy but all good things…and be thankful for the past four days with my son….

My brain and heart and body hurts. It’s hard to listen to the voice of push past. Right now it hurts too much, I can’t see what’s on the other side of the mountain…and I want to stay here where it’s at least familiar.

I know happiness awaits if I can push past but I seem to be struggling to find the willpower to continue.

I can’t help it…I don’t like it when people don’t like me, or tell lies. I don’t like it when people have treated me horribly unfairly and still get to act like they are victims. what do you do with that?

It’s easy to say…forget them and leave them there in the past…but almost impossible to do so.

Whatever your burdens you carry…or weight you feel on you…you can’t carry alone. For me, I pick them up…lay at Jesus feet…then pick them up again…perhaps I can push past that? Soon!!?

I am the dreaded word…middle aged. I remember as a child going to funerals of people my age and hearing all the adults say “they were so young.” I remember as a child thinking, they are old! What are they talking about being young!? Now, here I am…that same age…as that “old person.”

As a young adult, I decided that I would not raise my children the way I was raised. I was raised in a negative household. I was wrong, more than right…and there was always something to be fixed. I was a horrible student, I day dreamed, always had something to say to make people laugh around me…and had an atrocious temper. To say I was dramatic was a understatement. I was a faithful friend though…to those brave enough to stand by me.

I will spare you the details of my strange upbringing…but will only say to you…that I believe that humor was the only thing that saved me..because there were a few things I knew about myself in high school. I was pretty awesome at piano…I was horrible at sports…but I made everyone around me laugh…and most of my teachers despised me.

College was a repeat…and I still stunk as a student…but I really did try. Nevertheless, I promised myself that my kids would grow up different…my house would be different. Three years after I was married…life certainly was different.

Pain comes in many sizes…betrayal seems to be the worst to bear. I have yet to tell you how long it takes to come back from that one.

As I have grown older…I am not at a place where I am just tired. I have made mistakes…I have asked forgiveness…but I have not been forgiven. I feel that somehow I am still in bondage from that. How do you ever do enough good to make up for mistakes of your past? The answer is…you cannot.

Sometimes there are toxic people in your life that no matter how much good you do…they will not ever let you be free. They won’t ever let you be forgiven. They will blame you for their lives…relationships…etc. I have relationships that will never be restored simply because they chose to believe lies that were told. They are happier believing the lie than the truth. The lie is easier, because without it..they would have to look at the truth about themselves and they refuse to do that.

Some days the burden weighs me down. I don’t like people mad at me. I don’t like people not liking me. Some of the people I can’t even remember why they are mad. I’ve tried to mend the relationships but they have no desire to speak to me.. What do you do then?

What do you do to the people who throw in your face your mistakes over and over again? How do you pick yourself up from that!? How do you keep going? When will it ever be enough?

The truth is…it never will be enough. I will never attain the goal of perfection…I won’t ever get there. Doesn’t mean I don’t try…doesn’t mean I quit learning….but this constant need for approval of man will never bring me happiness…because I will never make everyone happy. I will never be the greatest wife, mom, stepmom, joss, clown, soapmaker, piano player, cook, house cleaner, teacher (all those things are things I actually do). I will never be perfect…at any of it.

I feel this strange sense of urgency. I keep trying to slow time down and each day evaporates into my hands like a raccoon confused by cotton candy dissolving into the river (it’s the saddest and funniest video ever). I don’t even have time lately to dust.

Life has to be more than going to work everyday…having five minutes of an actual vacation and then back to work again…there has to be more to it than that.

I feel as if I’m on this very fast train going absolutely nowhere fun either. I feel that I keep climbing a hill that’s a broken escalator and I am getting nowhere. I feel my problems and frustrations are the same day after day…that nothing gets resolved..just a continual loop of same.

I am grateful for this one thing…the God of the universe forgives me. He loves me unconditionally. He doesn’t bring up my faults again and again. He doesn’t blame my mistakes on his outcome of circumstances. He doesn’t bring it up time and time again, and tell me how awful I am for making these mistakes. He gives me grace…

Grace makes me cry…because where and when I grew up grace wasn’t ever given out…grace wasn’t even talked about. Grace was something only the pretty girls got…the good girls…never me.

Three years ago, (I’ve told those who read this blog this already). I walked under the sign that led into my church…and I choked back a little bit of tears (because I hate to cry) the name of the church was Grace. That has never been lost on me. For the girl with dirty white knee socks and long blond hair they never stayed curled or in braids..grace. For the teen who could never hit a ball, make A honor roll…Grace. For the young woman told by her German college professor that she wasn’t smart enough to go to college …grace.

I was not a mistake…or an accident. I have made plenty of mistakes..but I don’t want to be remembered for them. I have forgiven those that have hurt me…and it’s taken me a long time to do so. I guess the same can be said for those to forgive me.

For now, I can choose to live under the bondage of others and their own turmoil…or choose to look forward..continue to grow and learn and quit living in defeat.

I am forgiven…no more bondage.

The older I become, the more I can laugh at myself. I am learning (ever so slowly) that life can be enjoyed more when I’m laughing. I used to think I was really good at handling the big things…but slow drivers make me lose my mind. I can handle a crisis but someone please tell me how you can’t use a blinker? I could get through the most difficult times, but if you don’t know how to merge on a highway…I may scream at the top of my lungs.

We all have burdens…some of us deal with daily health issues. Some of us deal with a stress that doesn’t seem to go away. It can be financial, or it can be a loved one who is sick. It can be a child who is going in a negative direction…it can be a all of the things I shared..and for many of us…there is only one way to deal with it.

Last night I was tired…I had had a depressing talk with my Dad, where he was having a difficult day. However, I was the clown and I was being sent in. As I got to my destination and began the process of becoming this crazy character…my phone continued to get text after text…and I for once ignored them…and became this character.

I’ve become so comfortable in my clown skin that sometimes I forget I’m in clown…as you can see here:

As I continue this journey of what is my life…I think there are more laughs than tears. More joy than heartache, and more love than hate.

I wish that every day could be a clown day, that every day could be a day where we laugh. That all the hurt could be covered by a red nose…and big clown shoes…but it can’t.

I keep hearing character development. That you can’t grow without pain…and I know that that is true…but boy…I wish there was another way.

So for now…I will don the red nose when possible and press on even when I don’t want to…and stand by for “Send in the clown.”

Today, I got the call…the call you dread when your parent has dementia. My Dad got out of the house, but thankfully his neighbor brought him back home.

My Dad has the strongest hands…I would always hold them and compare them to the size of mine. I would pinch his thumb that he had an accident with and can no longer feel it and ask him if he could feel the pinch. I was always amazed that he never could. Today, he kept passing objects only he could see from hand back to hand. I asked him what he was holding and he said just stuff…and I smiled at him. I called my daughter over to help him. Luckily, she gathered quickly the situation. I told her to get the stuff from my Dad’s hands and put it on the kitchen table and she did. She did it perfectly, just like when she was little and we would pretend.

As I left the room and Ellie went to check on our dog…I could hear my Dad talking….to no one…but he thought someone was there.

Today, I held onto the fact he knew my name. He said he loved me to…and he was finally wearing his good shoes. I’m grateful I got him his medic bracelet so that his neighbor saw it…and I’m grateful for the good days…today wasn’t one of them.

For now…I listen to stories about motorcycles and double houses. I listen to stories of adventures with people that afternoon that have been gone for awhile. I listen to him ask me if I see the people he does…and I fight back tears. I try my best not to argue with him…to add some humor and at least make my Mom laugh. My Mom looked tired today.

As I watched him tell me the story that has no end and no point I remembered how strong he was..what amazing things he could build. How he fixed everything…even my broken heart when I was left all alone with just me and my boy while my husband left us…it was Dad who fixed it.

Dad who taught me to work hard…drive smart…balance a checkbook to the penny and drive on KC traffic. taught me to cheer for the Royals and maybe the cardinals but only when we had to.

He taught me to be proud of my country and work hard…and get married once and love the same person forever…

Today, was not my favorite day…but he was here…and perhaps tomorrow he will be better and I will get another glimpse of my Dad. He’s still in there…and that’s the hardest part…finding it.

This 4th of July looks different than it ever had ever before. We went to visit family out of state…and it was lovely…

For the first time ever…we did not light sparklers…we didn’t have smoke bombs…we just completely chilled.

My sister n law is an amazing cook and she showed me how to make fried chicken…

It was pretty amazing….my brother n law made amazing ribs and my husband made two amazing desserts.

We took a gorgeous hike….with a coffee shop and a vending machine in the middle of the forest(i kid you not)

July 4th we went to the city fireworks show…and I for the first time in my adult life…sat there…there are no videos or pictures….of fireworks.

I didn’t buy new shirts this year…these are from year’s past….and you know what? No one noticed. I sat there and tears formed in my eyes as I watched fireworks and listened to music about my beautiful country. I’m sure everyone heard the song “Im proud to be an American…cause at least I know I’m free……and I won’t forget the men who died and gave that right to me…and I’ll proudly stand up…next to you and defend her to this day…cause there ain’t no doubt I love this land….God bless the USA”….and being surrounded by my fellow Americans cheering at the end…it was a beautiful memory…but I didn’t record it…because I wanted to enjoy every second of it.

Year’s ago, I saw a video of an elderly woman watching something like a parade or maybe even fireworks. She was surrounded by people with phones and cameras…they were all filming…but not her. She was enjoying the moment…and everything that moment offered. It was hers and hers alone. That was what I want to do more of…live those moments in the memory of my mind.

No matter what life throws at you…or how different it may look…dare to soak up those memories…those pockets of memories for all they are worth. We are only given one short trip…make it count!

Who is ready for more adventure? Less stuff…🙌🙌🙌

Since you are a writer, I’m sure that title annoyed you. While you correct my bad display of grammar…remember that I taught you how to eat with a fork, go potty…and learned that bubbles were a nightmare to my little boy.

Today, as I drove to work…I wondered about what you were doing. We are not in the same time zone…the same state…and you feel a million miles away.

I wondered if you were eating well…if you were making friends. I wondered how you were feeling about yourself…and I wanted to cry.

Watching you grow up has been the most rewarding, yet terrifying…and amazingly sad but proud emotional hurricane I have ever experienced.

From the first time I felt the flutter of you in my stomach…learned that I would be a mother…I have loved you. From the time I held you…checked all your fingers and toes..and kissed them all..I fell in love with you..my beautiful, perfect baby boy.

As you grew ..we were amazed at how quickly and how well you spoke. How you could turn the charm on anyone…and how absolutely ridiculously stubborn you were. I have known you would do great things from that day forward. I had no idea what exactly those things would be.

I loved how you loved Star Wars, and Spider-Man. I loved how you wore your coon skin cap with your Darth Vader cape, while watering your favorite “zinnia” flowers.

I am sorry for things not being ideal for you. I tried to make the passing of your biological father as painless as possible….but did not realize how that truly affected you. I can only say that I hope that you will gain the strength I tried to teach you through the tragedy…and become better for it.

I pray that you will never be to proud to say where you came from. I pray that you will never allow power and money to speak louder than the voice of God and how He guides your conscious. I pray that you will never take your value in only what the followers of your social media are. I pray you will always be someone who looks at others as equals.

I pray that no matter what position in life you have you will never forget the value of your fellow man. I pray that your heart will always be to serve and make the world a better place, not make just your world a better place.

I pray you will always see evil for what it is…evil…and work hard to make sure that it is fought against…that people are protected.

I pray that you will stand tall and firm for what is right. That you will not be influenced by those who say you can’t stand for that…and stand even taller. I pray that you will make a difference…because you were born to make a difference.

I am not sure how big the platform of yours will ever be…but I will say no matter…make the difference where you stand.

For now, I worry…and I pray.

Someday you will have a son…and he will grow up and you will feel all the things that I am feeling. He will break your heart…he will heal your heart. He will make you keep going when you just want to get back into bed. He will make your sorrows worth it. He will make you want to scream. He will fill you with pride…he will make you wish he never had to grow up.

I wish I could go back in time…I would read with you longer…I would take more pictures. I would enjoy my time with you a little more.

Please know…there is no one cheering louder for you in this whole wide world than me for you…And that will never change…no matter how old you get.

I had plans for this weekend…..big plans. I wanted to camp and watch the stars as I fell asleep. I wanted to hike and kayak. However, I live in the Midwest…and the Midwest tells you what you are going to do.

It decided to be 105 (well with the heat index) and this girl is.like a fluffy marshmallow, and will melt. So, my date with a book and a hammock were cancelled. I was NOT happy.

So, I went to plan B….

I went kayaking (even though I had the wrong date and the wrong time 🥴 but thankfully I know the owner and she had mercy on me.😁

My husband and I have found the only way we relax….is to do something active. The big lake with the boats all around…the lapping of the water..:the wind blowing….and everything seems easier to understand. My brain loses the static. I have clear thoughts and a clear vision…noise is gone.

As I paddled, and the pain in my left shoulder began (I have no idea why) I started to think about life…and all the struggles we all deal with. As the pain in my shoulder increased (and I’ve been doing the rowing machine since January so there was no reason for this pain) I wanted to stop in the middle of the lake. I didn’t want to continue. However, I knew…the only way home was to keep going.

I know that is how I feel about life some times. We all do…we all have our burdens…and we just want to stop. I want my dad to be whole again…I don’t want to do through this disease with him called dementia.

I want to let the burdens of work, raising children, the burdens of all the hats I wear and things I juggle…but…

No matter the pain….if I don’t keep going…I won’t get home. For me, my home is not here…it can’t be found on this earth…but it’s where I’m headed when the pain of this life…is behind me.

There are better things that await me…

Keep going…you are not home yet.

Tonight, I laid down trying to go to sleep…clearly that went well since I am still NOT asleep.

My mind was going through inflation…not sure why since I can’t stop it and worrying about it doesn’t help…

Then I remembered back to the 80s. The years I was growing up. I was five…and I remember everyone was always cranky….l remember Carter was President….because my Dad would yell at the tv quite frequently…saying something negative…and then say our Presidents name 🥴.

We lived out in the country…and had the longest commute…it felt like we rode the bus forever, and then our Dad would pick us up in his big chevy truck.

I will not argue about Chevy or Ford….my father is a chevy man. Made my brother n law park his Ford further down the driveway…and when I bought a Toyota, you would have thought I told him I committed a crime and was going to jail.

I personally, I’m not a huge fan of American cars (says the girl who spent half her life by the side of the road with said American cars).

Tonight though, I remember that Chevy truck. The red and black vinyl seats. Don’t even know if we wore seat belts…pretty sure we did not. Dad always put his arm out to catch me..when we stopped suddenly. Said it was habit from my older sisters before seat belts were even a thing.

Dad always drove with the window down…one.arm.on the door, the other holding the wheel.

He would tell my sister and I about work, about his life…what he wanted for us. I was too young to appreciate it…but it’s one of the reasons why I love the “golden hour”. Turning into a gravel driveway with the dog barking at the truck…wondering what Mom made for dinner. The horses at the gate….always a puppy somewhere…and that glorious sunset over the barn.

I choose to remember those days….and the silly jokes my sister and Dad would play on Mom… They both could tell the best jokes…I always messed them up. The stories dad would tell from work…and the tv on after dinner always. Sometimes, if Mom was on some new idea…the summer I churned butter (the only plus was watching tv) or the time we actually had to shuck corn…my hands would hurt so bad. Mother teaching us to freeze corn…..to this day….Not a fan🙈.

There was also the time we picked berries for her jam (sweaty but definitely worth it!) The years we would put up our own pool….never was life better….and the library every week…that was summer.

The Summer our dog ate beets from the composte pile and there were purple lawn ornaments everywhere 😁. The time there were party lines when we called someone. Learning how to ride a bike on gravel….my Dad was over my reasoning on why I could not ride…and literally pushed me down a hill🙈….it worked🥴. Or the time I decided that I indeed could raise a family of mice with just cheese (sadly it rained overnight and that dream came to a sad end). Or the time my niece and I found a bat and put in a jar..but then realized we had to set it free…we did…absolutely terrifying.

This summer…there is still a pool…no jam…tv is still on…Dad is still yelling at the tv…no more funny jokes. No more drives in the chevy truck…no more conversations about work. Horses have been sold and by now no longer living…as well as the dogs and cats. No more churning of butter…no more gardening…the final “golden hour” is upon us…and all those stories….and jokes…I forget…but I won’t forget the laughter.

I won’t forget how my Dad loved nothing more than to laugh…how he sung the best songs. How he could open any jar in the whole world. How he could fix anything and build anything. How I got my straight blonde hair from him….

My sense of humor….and my horrible temper. He wasn’t a violent man…but he could yell. 🥴

How he worked so hard so we could have the best. How he taught me to work hard….and how proud he was to send us to a good school.

This year will be different….a medical bracelet…but some great lemon pie…and hopefully a few laughs…because…

Every morning I wince before looking at my phone. Will I have a full staff today? What problems happened while I was sleeping? Did my son also need me? Did I forget to pay a vendor? Did my mother need something? What…. more can I do?

I don’t remember my parents being busy like parents are today…I don’t remember the weariness…but maybe they were better at hiding it then we are.

I’m tired of people being sick. I’m tired of people being flakey. I’m tired of people not pulling their weight. I’m sick of cleaning up messes…I’m tired of being the person that fixes all the things. I’m tired of planning meals until I die..I’m tired. I’m just tired.

I feel absolutely pulled in a million different places. I’m a mom, a homeschool Mom. I’m a wife, a retail store owner, a soap maker, a plant lover and sometimes a clown. I feel that I fail at everything right now.

Friday, I woke up to the world spinning….and severe stomach cramps….extremely nauseous and waiting for my head to quit pounding. Two days later it finally stopped.

Sometimes, your body just makes you stop…no matter that you want to keep going. No matter you have a ton to do…it just doesn’t care. At times, we feel that we are invincible….that nothing can stop us…and then it does.

How amazing to find that the world kept existing without my holding it together. The sun came up and the sun went down. Life continued and no one barely noticed that I wasn’t around.

We all become so consumed with how important we are. That no one else can do all the things that we do…the correct and right way we do them. Then, all of a sudden…it happens…though it might have been done better…it still got done.

The store kept going, the laundry got done, the band still played…no clowning events were scheduled and dinner still happened.

So many times we think we have to do it all…and if we don’t, we are failures. Sometimes, our bodies just say…enough, and we have no choice but to listen.

Everyone I spoke to about my sudden illness….said the same thing…”stress”. When I say…i got this…and this…and even more of this. But my body says…you need a break. It’s been over three years since I have taken a seven day vacation not work related…and it’s starting to show.

Today, I watched tv….watered my plants, cleaned my kitchen and pulled some weeds….and I have never felt so revived….this weekend….its camping time….and I’m ready for it!