The Circle of My Life

A few months ago, I was pulled over. I wasn't wearing my seatbelt. I have asked Mark over and over and over again to fix my seatbelt. Guess what? It's fixed now.

While explaining to the officer that my husband is a loser and that the seatbelt would be fixed, the officer asked why I was slurring.  "Are you on drugs?" "Are you drunk?"

"Um, no, I have a medical condition that affects my speech."

After talking with her for a minute, she slapped me on the butt with a warning ticket and sent me on my way.

I didn't think about it (much) until about a week later I received a letter from the Drivers License Division informing me that I had to get my butt into their offices, take a written test, have a physical evaluation, bring a Doctors note and perform a driving test.

WHAT?

I was beyond mad. Okay. Let's be honest. I was scared to death. I was so very worried that some random minimum wage employee was going to determine whether I could drive when I knew BEYOND certainty that I was fine to drive.

Ugh.

Test day came and I aced the written test as well as the physical evaluation. I wasn't worried NOT ONE BIT about the driving test. I can drive. Right? According to the Utah State Laws, I have a "signal when you're gonna turn" issue and they FAILED ME. My super up-to-date 1993 Jeep doesn't "click" when the blinker is on AND my signal switch needed replaced. (Sigh.) (Mark.) (Again.) So when the examiner took a gander at my dashboard, he didn't see a blinking light. Fail.

Upset. Crying. Gnashing of teeth. Seeing red. That was me.

Then depression set in. How am I going to handle the imminent loss of my independence? This soooooooo sucks.

Back in the day, we had a car that Mark and I lovingly called the La Bamba. Tanna and Shelby (not so lovingly) referred to it as the Loser Cruiser. They would come unglued if, while we were out and about, we happened upon someone they knew. For them, best case scenerio would be that their friends would be spotted BEFORE we rolled up and the extra time would enable my proud girls to slink WAY LOW in their seats so they couldn't be seen.

On the other hand? Goose and Tyson loved this car. They thought it was the coolest car that was ever built and proudly let EVERYONE share their joy in the 1974 Pontiac.

Goose was 13 or 14. He begged and bargained and petitioned and implored and desperately pled with me to let him drive. One day, I gave in. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I'm weak.

Goose and I took off for a spin around the block. We got 3/4 of the way home when I looked behind us and saw the flashing lights. Crap. We were being pulled over and Goose wasn't close to a practice-my-driving age.

"Hi officer. I'm just out practicing driving with my son TYSON." Yeah. I lied. Oh boy. Goose just froze and didn't say a word. If I was going down, he sure as crap wasn't going with me. Thanks Goose.

The officer simply thought that I looked too young to be THE mom (I say that proudly.), checked my license and sent us on our way. Whew.

Time passed. Tyson became a licensed driver. Goose learned. Tanna and Shelby became official. I spent endless amount of time teaching the rules of the road. "Push the clutch in BEFORE you stop." "Turn your blinker on." "Change gears" "Shift." "Shift." "SHIFT."

Today the Linnette Deason pancake finally flipped. Things in my life have been beginning to come full circle. It officially started in New York when Shelby had to help me put my shoes on before entering the buildings. I swear my feet are claustrophobic and I kept having to take off my shoes.  I had (I do mean HAD) to get them off. Shelby used her BEST mom voice. "Why do you keep taking your shoes off?" However, she would get on her knees, slip my Converse on my feet, tie them and ALWAYS would ask "Is that too tight? How do they feel?"

A few weeks ago, I fell. My face was dirty and my pride was wounded. Tanna went and got a wet cloth and oh-so-lovingly washed my face.

Tyson periodically kidnaps me and takes me to lunch or to a movie. He gets SO MAD if I try to pay. Half of the time, I don't even bring my purse with me any longer.

EVERY SINGLE TIME Jaden hears me come into the house or stumble around in the kitchen or walk down the stairs or mow the lawn or carry a laundry basket he asks if I'm okay or if I need some help.

When I eat, I'm telling you that no matter how careful I am, I end up wearing my food with my make-up. Mark is forever grabbing a napkin or a towel or his bare fingers and cleaning my face for me.

Goose took me to my driving test today. He sat in the passenger seat while I gave his car a whirl and adjusted my driving skills to power steering. He giggled and gave advice (most times unsolicited) while I practiced parallel parking.

And a few things crossed my mind.

I have really, really, REALLY good kids. I'm going to be okay when I can't do it "all" any longer. I'm so fortunate to be in the "now" with my family.

I remember when the book "Love You Forever"  by Robert Munsch came out.

The synopsis by Wikipedia is:

"The story details the cycle of life by chronicling the experiences of a young son and his mother throughout the course of the boy's life, and describing the exasperating behavior exhibited by him throughout his youth. In spite of her occasional aggravation caused by her son's behavior, the mother nonetheless visits his bedroom nightly to cradle him in her arms, and sing a brief lullaby promising to always love him. After her son enters adulthood and leaves home, his elderly mother occasionally sneaks into his bedroom at night to croon her customary lullaby. However she gradually grows old and frail, and her grown son visits his feeble, sickly mother for the final time. He sings an altered rendition of her lullaby in reciprocation of the unconditional love that she had shown him; vowing to always love her as she dies before him. After returning home in a scene implying the death of his mother, he cradles his newborn daughter and sings his mother's signature lullaby for her, implying that the cycle will continue."

I remember reading this book over and over to my kids. I thought it was cute. It struck a bit of a chord in my heart. However, it was simply a good book.

That book is on my mind. Heavy. Today, I learned the truth behind the circle of my life. For the first time EVER? I'm okay with it.

P.S.  I passed my driving test.

It's A Small World

There is a time in our lives where the world is huge. People enter our lives through work and school and neighborhoods and friends of our kids and parents of our friends and "regulars" at the Pepsi store, the gym, the grocery store.  Then as we age, our world begins to shrink. People we love leave and absolutely CANNOT be replaced.

Max was one of those people in my life. Max had a way of finding beauty in the small things. If I said he loved nature, your mind would wander to the mountains and the trees and the wildlife that comes within the "huge-ness" of our world. He did love nature as you might define it. However, when I think of Max I think of the beauty he found in the simpler nature. He found form and intrigue in rocks. In a wooden stick. In a pine cone. He would think and plan and work and form a piece of art that was useful and aesthetically soothing to your soul.

Early this morning, Max Peery passed away. Max is Aunt Shannon's father. Shannon was lucky to be with him and her mom when he died. Last Saturday Shannon found out that Max had recently been diagnosed with leukemia. The poor family didn't have time to wrap their brains around something so horrible, when his kidneys began shutting down.

Max and Gabe live in St. George, Utah and Shannon left Monday to go see how she might be able to help. I am so grateful that she was lucky enough to see her dad, hold his hand, fluff his pillows, and let him know in action and word that she loves him ohsoverymuch.

Max enjoyed thinking outside of the box. He was kind and gracious and giving. Yes, it's a smaller world now.

Take that minute to hold those you love close. Discover your unique-ness.  Learn from Max and embrace the beauty in the small gifts that are placed on our earth. Be loving and kind and give what you have. Envision potential in all that you see. Think outside of the box and challenge those you love to do so.