When your youngest turns ten…

Today my youngest turns 10. Double digits. I’m just awestruck by that.

It’s trite to say, “Where does the time go?” but that’s the feeling I have.

She was born on a Black Friday. I went into labor 4 hours after a big Thanksgiving Day feast. Four days before her due date and 4 hours after I drank Raspberry tea, which they say can send you into labor if you’re nearly due. The contractions came fast and did much work. She would have popped out quickly in about 45 minutes if I hadn’t had an Epidural which slowed it all down and also made it enjoyable…unlike the birth of my first child….pure agony. But that Epidural made me loopy too. For instance, I wanted my husband to get a tv & video comb for $35. It was Black Friday and we were missing it. I probably mentioned it 15 times. I thought I had plenty of time, and it was a bargain too good to pass up. He wouldn’t budge. I remember a baseball game on the hospital tv, but that would be impossible. November 29 is a few weeks after baseball season. Strange, isn’t it?

When she was born she seemed huge to me. The doctor held her up so that her arms were out in front. Her tiny arms and fists looked ready to do damage. Though she looked like bruiser, she wasn’t that big, just 8 lbs and 1oz. Also unlike my boy, I could always understand her cries. Different cries meant different things; understandable things. Sounds I would make if I couldn’t talk yet, but still knew what I wanted. She was communicative and rational, strange as that sounds–not prone to emit any indiscriminate screams.

I think back and remember being ten years old so clearly. I remember what my dad bought me for my birthday. A hair comb with feathers on it. All maroon. Woven cord held the feathers and wrapped around the plastic comb. I liked learning about Native Americans a lot in those days and he said he thought it seemed Indian like that, with the little feathers. We had just moved into a new home.  I found life hard and the growing friction between my parents suffocating. I remember my parents expecting a lot of me and often falling short. “You’re the oldest, you should know better,” was a common riff. I was a pessimist.

My daughter surprises me with her thoughtfulness and wisdom. I wasn’t really like her at ten. I didn’t have her empathy, forethought, or her raw intelligence. I didn’t have loads of friends calling for play dates on vacation days. I didn’t seek out the misfits and befriend them. I thought their weakness would rub off on me, and further poison my reputation. Ellie can see the big picture 8 times out of 10. I was in my 30s before I could do that with any consistency.

Childhood is fleeting. Infancy lasts (to me) about 6-9 months. Toddler stage until about 2 1/2 years old. Pre-school ages 3 and 4, and then at 5 they leave you for most of the day. They make friends you don’t know about, and experience things they never have enough time to tell you of. They move from being little children into typical children, and then so quickly to pre-adolensence. Something totally new and strange and complicated.

Soon adolescence will bear down on us fully (my son turns 13 in less than 4 months). Really, the first shots across the bow here powerfully here. The challenges heighten and the stakes feel higher. The stakes felt high when they were tiny too, but only because I felt anxious about being a parent and botching it up.

Now, I’m sure I’ll botch things up, but there are bigger threats than me out there for them. Their horizons are broadening. They have to make their own way as they rely on me less. It’s meant to be that way.

I’m not sure why life feels like I just got here and have to adjust all the time like a Rookie. I always feel like I’m making my way, at a new spot, and fumbling. Never really hitting a good stride for too long. I think if I die at an old age and in a fashion that’s slow where I can know it’s the end, I think I will be startled by the brevity of it all and the ever-strangeness of it. The foreignness. Like I never really got used to it. Like I never really fit into it quite right. Life still feels like a new pair of tight leather shoes.

Having a ten year old girl child is a lot to think about and I’m very pensive today.

Do you remember your 10th birthday?

P.S.

If you downloaded my digital books, which were all free on Cyber Monday, would you please take a minute or two to leave a review at Amazon? I’d really appreciate it!  (click Kindle Bookshelf top image) If you haven’t see them yet, just out the samples Amazon features.

SHOCK & BAWL: A Tale of Jeep Rage

Boston I-93 Tunnel

Creative Commons License Rene Schwietzke via Compfight

Somedays you need to read uplifting or humorous posts to soothe yourself. I GET THAT. Friday seems two weeks away. You and I both know that sometimes we must find a way to laugh so we don’t freak out on someone, or weep uncontrollably into our Dunkin’ Donuts napkin.

This is probably not going to do that for you. But, you can read it, and shoot up a quick prayer thanking God that you aren’t my spouse. So, that’s a pick-me-up. You’re welcome.

True Story:

Once I made a horrible driving error. I’m pretty sure it was the one and only time, but I completely cut someone off on the Interstate.

So, I swing into the passing lane and make a guy in a jeep brake and swerve. Panicked, and intolerably stupid, I flee the scene…by intricately weaving through traffic, no less. Maybe if I’m out of sight I can be out of mind too, I think. No, it’s actually more of a pure flight-or-fight response. I was about 7 year old at the time, and my frontal lobe was under-developed. 

Indeed, it’s all a crescendoing avalanche of foolishness. Incited, second motorist blows his horn and starts to tail me in a move of solidarity against vehicular injustice. Things are getting totally nuts. No doubt he’s readying a tall finger for my witness. My NASCAR lane changing moves soon best him, or maybe he realizes a highway fatality is too high a price just to send a hackneyed message.

As I flee I see the victim in my mirror. He’s frothing and out of his mind with rage. He’s waving limbs around in wild fury, gassing it. He’s in hot pursuit. It’s a Jeep thing, maybe.

Now, I’m terrified. I taste the bile in my mouth.

My heart pounding, I realize this all could end very poorly. And soon.

That blaze of glory stuff is an awesome idea until you start thinking about the minutia of funeral arrangements, or wreckage in general. Yes. The poor man swerved to avoid a smash style killing of both of us. It could have been a horrid pileup too. We truly had eluded death by narrow margins. 14 guardian angels later file grievances. 3 others walk off the job immediately in complete frustration.

Jeep guy was quite good at swerving, actually, and keeps up the swerving through interstate congestion to reach me. Maybe for seconds. Maybe for kilometers. Things are getting weird. A few truckers start honking, to support me, I assume. (They probably notice my professional driving acumen. What 7 year old can draft and weave with such precision? I’m a prodigy. Surely they recognize that. It’s a rush to have their approval. They’re pros after all and they know motoring prowess when they see it.)

At this point I realize Mr Jeep guy is going to try to pull some kind of payback stunt. He’s all in.

Battle of the Stupid Driving Stunts is the theme of the afternoon, but who can blame him? At this point, he’s jacked up pretty good. I’m in a subcompact. How bad will this get? Does he have a gun? Or, will he keep it simple and just run me off the road with a triumphant fist pump? Will I be late for Girl Scouts?

How is this going to end?

I do some quick thinking. Finally. Thoughts not just reactions. I mentally pat myself on the back as my synapses fire two or maybe three times…in a row with no problems!

Actually, I stopped breathing for 8 minutes.

They say necessity is the mother of invention, right? Well, it is. I am inventing a solution with  an unfettered brain buzz that comes just before you die or you nearly die. I’ve scene this in the movies: It’s always in slow motion.

I do the only thing I think will hit the reset button. (Yes. I know there’s no real reset button. Curse you, Staples! Or Vanilla Sky…)

I decide on the element of SURPRISE!

Of course, I had just surprised him quite a bit a moment earlier by nearly snuffing out his life. “Surprise, dude!”

Yet, this is precisely why he will never see a second surprise coming. Really, I had him right were I wanted him.

(If only the roaring terror in my brain had let me enjoy that precious moment. Alas, no. Not at all.)

I enact my own creative SEAL 6 black ops tactic I now call:

Operation Boo-hoo.

It’s go time!

I burst into tears.

I cry.

Sob, really.
Or, I pretend to.

Who has the time to form actual tears at such a high rate of speed and in heavy traffic–before they’re about to be murdered in an act of heedless revenge? Me neither.

Armed with a fistful of tissues I wipe my eyes and feign bawling. A lot. He approaches in haste (of course, because he’s ready to kill me).

From me: Zero eye contact. (Like he’s not even there. A genius move. Remember that for later in your own travels.)

Peripherally, I see him. He edges up to my blind spot. Hovering. Ready to pounce.

He’s poised. He peers. He notices me. He witnesses total hysteria. …and then…mercifully… eases off. (Perhaps I turned out to be a 3 gallon bucket of mess and he only has a 2 gallon bucket that day.)

Yes, I counted on his attitude changing once he thought something else was going on with me. Something mental. Something suicidal or wickedly moronic–barely thwarted by his quick reflexes.

Or, just something too crazy to understand.

Shock and bawl.

I was going for, “Wha….?” 
Is it Grief? remorse? madness? sorrow? a lost puppy? What. is. the. deal?
Whatever…let me just say it worked. Perfectly.

Later, I rewarded myself with a new box of Kleenex…with aloe.
I’m not sure why I wasn’t armed with aloe tissues in the first place. But, never again.
Because that would be crazy.

If that was you in the Jeep, thanks.

I wasn’t paying attention and I didn’t see you. We both avoided certain doom.

P.S. (I might have not been 7 years old at the time.)

Caleb Wilde breaks up Funeral Brawls. A lot.

This is Part II of my interview with 6th generation funeral director Caleb Wilde.

Caleb Wilde, Part II (click)

PLUS.

There is also Bonus Video material I decided to upload that largely contains my own thoughts on how we tend to wrongly respond to grief and suffering, followed by Caleb’s response.

It is an unbroken 4:24 min clip. This is also very unusual, as I usually feature very few of my own thoughts in Ninja Interviews. So, I didn’t even add the Ninja graphics into this clip.

Being that this is the season of Lent, it might be nice to hear your reflections on mortality. If you’d like to share you own thoughts about the theme of Lent, or what you’ve heard through watching the video, I’d love to hear them. (You can leave them either at the youtube channel, or here. Click the comments link at the top of the post, then scroll down to the comment field.)

Interviewing my favorite undertaker: Caleb Wilde

I’ve appreciated Caleb Wilde’s blog for quite a while now. It could be my own experience with grief, suffering, and the dying process that makes Caleb’s sentiments on death and unique perspective a kind of solace to me.

If death and dying has touched your world, I think you’ll feel the same way about his blog. If it hasn’t, at some point it will. That’s just the facts.

Speaking from experience, I suggest purposefully familiarizing yourself with the inevitable issues of mortality (your own and your loved ones’) before they arrive without warning and manage to capsize your world, crush your faith, or in some other way batter you. And for purposes of minister and soul care it’s quite helpful too.

This is part one of our chat. Check back this week for part 2.

(click for video)

Read my Guest Post on “Confessions of a Funeral Director” blog (Caleb Wilde)

Thank you so much for stopping by today.

It’s a really big day for me, for at least 3 reasons…hold up! 5 Reasons. (I just found out it’s The Year of the Dragon starting today AND National Pie day. Eating pie like a dragon seems like the proper thing to do and Very exciting!)

Here’s 3 more reasons.

1. Author Shawn Smucker’s interview is now live, it’s awesome, and it’s the first of two parts (see the previous post).

2. Doomsday debunker and writer of a bunch of books, Jason Boyett, posted the pre-lease of his interview with me about his fun (yes I said fun) Doomsday book. For now, it’s only available at his site, here, (and it’s unlisted on youtube until that goes live, on January 30th to the general public).

Since it’s time-sensitive info…go ahead and get the word out! (We might only have 11 more months before ultimate doom and annilation, so be a darling and help some people not freak out, k?)

3. I have a guest post at Confessions of a Funeral Director. No, I’m not a funeral director, but it is a kind of confession.

Please stop by and read my deathly guest post at Caleb’s poignant site. He’s, by far, my favorite undertaker. And I mean that!

And check back for a fascinating Ninja Interview with Caleb which will be up soon.