The Game of Life

When I was a little girl, I used to love to play the board game Life. Sometimes I would get out the game and just "pretend" to play it all by myself. Wikipedia describes the game as:

The game simulates a person's travels through his or her life, from college to retirement, with jobs, marriage, and possible children along the way.

The modern game consists of a track on which players travel by spinning a small wheel (in the center of the board) with spaces numbered 1 through 10. The board also contains small mountains, buildings, and other three-dimensional objects. Playing pieces are small, colored, plastic automobiles which come in red, blue, white, yellow, orange, and green; each car has six holes in the top in which blue and/or pink "people pegs" are placed throughout the game as the player "gets married" and has or adopts "children". Some "early modern" editions have eight automobiles. 

I ALWAYS chose the blue car. I would carefully place my little pink lady peg in the drivers seat and wait patiently for the marriage space so that I could sit that blue peg right beside me. I would cross my fingers and offer secret prayers that I would be able to fill the rest of the car with pegs that represented children. I wanted two blue pegs and two pink pegs. Two boys and two girls. If I was by myself pretending, I would just start off with the car loaded EXACTLY the way I wanted it to be and off I would go spinning the wheel to see what my future might hold.

I don't remember the spaces on board of the game. I never worried about how much money I was going to get or what really cool education I might receive. I didn't care if I was a doctor, lawyer or a bum on the street. I was just concerned that I would be able to fill my car with the kids. If I was unable to fill my car before the end of the game? I lost. Even if I "won" I considered it a loss.

In the real world, I always always ALWAYS wanted children. I never considered going off to college or traveling or moving to some exotic location. I was born to be a mom.

I got married 3 weeks out of high school. June 15, 1983. I was pregnant by the first of the year. I was beginning to fill my car and nothing made me happier.  Tyson was born August 19, 1984. He was two months early. So began some pretty scary adventures for us. But he was such a strong boy. He pulled through with flying colors and we never looked back.

Goose came in 1987. Tanna in 1989 and Shelby in 1991. My car was full of the EXACT pegs I had always wished for.

9 years later Jaden was born.

If I could have had more children I would have. If I could adopt kids, I would. If I could be a foster parent, I would. If I had the means to run a home for needy children, I would. I love kids. I'll say it again. I LOVE KIDS. All kids.

I finally went to college and got my degree in graphic design. I'm good at what I do. Right now I'm doing quite a few wedding announcements for different couples. I have them come to my house and I meet with them. I ask about their engagement and their wedding plans. I LOVE to ask about how they met and fell in love. We talk about their plans for the future and I wonder to myself where they are going to land in their game of Life.

My wheel has been spinning for 48 years now. I have landed on some spaces that I couldn't get off of fast enough. Other times, I wish I could have lingered a bit longer before I had to load my car and move on. Despite the twists and turns that my vehicle in Life has taken, I ALWAYS have loaded up my car. I have always carefully placed all the pegs in proper order. Three blue pegs are placed first, followed by two pink pegs. I have extended my car to add room for another blue peg to represent Jaden. My car keeps getting longer as I have needed to add three pink for Diana, Daulton, Hailey and another blue for Bill.

Throughout my life I have seen the need to add pegs here and there to just give them a lift to another destination. We laugh on our road trip. We play games, tell stories, eat great car candy and I drop them off to complete their spin. However, I always keep my car open for them to hitch a ride. If you need to place your peg in my car for a bit? I'll be glad to a have you on board. If you have room in your car for those children in need? Open your car and invite them in. Sometimes they just need a little rest from the spinning wheel that places them into the darkness.

The Deason pegs...

Stolen Flowers

To me, one of the most beautiful sights is a cemetery on Memorial Day. Provo Cemetery is no exception.

I went to see Keith on Memorial Day.  I don't usually go to cemeteries on Memorial Day. It's the rebellious streak in me. I am not one to be told when I should remember a loved one. I want to do it my way in my time. I know that's lame. But it's just me and I don't do it.

This year Keith has been heavy on my mind. I find myself talking about him more often which causes me to think about him more often which causes me to look for him again every time I see a guy walking down the street with his hat pulled low or skateboarding by with his shirt off. Yep. I still miss him in the silence between every heartbeat.

Tanna asked if I would go with her to the cemetery. We loaded up in the jeep, cranked up the radio and sat in silence while we drove to see my boy.

I go see Keith several times a year. Sometimes when I go there are little gifts left for him on his gravestone. This year someone had dropped of some flowers. I was a bit shocked. I don't think I have ever seen flowers on his grave. Usually it's a blue bandana or a penny or a pepsi. Not flowers.

I cried.

I was so touched by that simple act of love.  I took the flowers home.

I know all the reasons why I SHOULDN'T have taken them. However, the reasons of why I SHOULD won.

I planted them in the little flower bed right by my driveway. EVERY SINGLE TIME I pull into my house I see Keith. I think of Keith. I feel Keith there.

The flowers are a little "bendy" right now. They'll snap out of it and flourish and will remain a reminder of a life that left us too early.

When you drive by my place and you see the brilliant white mums in my flower bed...join me and think of Keith. If you didn't know Keith. You missed meeting a shooting star. If you knew him? Well then, you know exactly what I mean.

P.S.  If YOU are the one to leave the flowers at the gravesite...thank you. I'd tell you that I'm sorry that I took them. I know you left them for Keith. But. I don't think I AM sorry. I'm just grateful. Come by my house. We'll share stories of the boy that we all miss.

Crash

One of my all time favorite watch it over and over and never get tired of it movies is Crash. I remember sitting in the theater the night I went. I'm sure I had a popcorn and coke and was just happy to get out of my reality for a moment. I've told you that I'm a BIG movie fan. I see everything. But I LOVE Sandra Bullock and I was particularly excited to see this movie.

The opening of the movie had a voice over that said:

It's the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, people bump into you. In L.A., nobody touches you. We're always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something.

I think about this ALL the time.  I'm a friendly kind of gal. I walk down the street and try to make eye contact with all that I pass. I say "hi" and smile even when they avoid that eye contact or are lost in their Ipod-cell-phone world.

It's so easy to do. So why don't we do it often? 

Am I wrong to think that we ALL miss human contact? the letters in the mail? the phone calls? the walks in the park? laying on the grass and telling stories? holding hands and just being silent and still?

These things matter. They are what we will remember in the end. The little moments are what our stories are made of. 

I think it is important to help write each others' stories. It's so simple to smile and say "hello" to a stranger. Eye contact only takes a moment. Reach out and touch those around you. Turn off the Ipod, put down your phone and use your voice. I bet it's a good voice. 

Mirror Images

I recently read an article on MSN about how we see ourselves. I can't find the article now, (of course) but it said something to the effect that if we were to draw a self portrait, it would not be as attractive as if someone else were to sketch our image.

I've thought about that for a while now. I know my flaws. I wish I was taller. I hate my profile. My skin is imperfect. I've had 5 kids. Therefore, my body has been stretched and pulled and molded into an alien form. Trust me. It never snapped back into perfect shape.

What about my heart?

I have spent most of my life watching people. I watch how others act. I watch reactions.

When I was younger I would mirror the good that I saw. In the beginning, it wasn't always from my heart. I just liked what I saw somebody else do, so that was what I tried to emulate. I guess it wasn't really genuine, but I was learning to become the woman I wanted to be. As I have grown older, being nice to human beings comes more naturally to me.

Last week was Mother's Day. Daulton brought me flowers and a Home Depot gift card. Shelby HANDmade me these really cool hotpads. (She is secretly trying to get me to cook again.) Tyson came by and brought Bill just to see me. My entire family fussed over me.

I got phone calls. I received a texts.  Kids swung by to give me a hug. People wrote some really cool things on Facebook.

Brett texted me from the fire he was on in California. L.T. rode his longboard over to make sure I knew he was thinking about me.

I was filled with a sense of wonder over the kindness that was given to me. So, I'm writing them down. I have said that periodically I read over my blog, and these moments I never want to forget.

Dawn wrote:  "You have been the single most influencing Mom I have in my life. I love and cherish everything about you. Even...When you flip me off a Yoga."  

Kelli wrote: "There are some moms put on this earth to raise kids that are not technically their own.... You raised not only yours but the entire neighborhood. You have a special place in my heart as not only a friend- but a confidant, a shoulder to cry on, someone to tell it how it is, fearless to stand up for what you believe in. For that i can not explain the huge heart that is found within a tiny statured women. Love you Mama Nette!!!"

Ashley wrote:  "Happy mommy day I just want you to know you are a wonderful mother an in my heart an eyes you are my mother always will be always have been I miss you like mad you were always there for me an only wanted the best for me I may not see you lots or talk often but I always always love you more then life love you mommy!!!"

Shelby posted on Twitter:  "Not many can say they are as close to their moms as I am to mine. Anybody who has ever met my mom considers her a mom of theirs. I'm blessed to be a part of her wild journey. Not once in my entire life has my mom never been on my side. She's taken in & housed many children and buried a child of her own. Through everything, my mom is the most Christ-like person I've ever met. I'm proud to call her my own. I love you mommy, you are my sunshine."

Okay. Let's be honest here. These sentiments made me feel good. I was on an emotional high that day that is hard to beat.

I love how people see ME at times. I look into the mirror of my soul and I see the flaws. I see the anger, fear and jealousy that I am guilty of. I see the moments of chaos that I have brought upon my own shoulders. I have sketched a self portrait that MIGHT NOT be worthy of who I strive to be.

Thank goodness for the artists in our lives that draw us as beautiful human beings - the people that trace the good we try to give and wrap that image in love and place it gently in our hearts.

I knew it.

I knew it. I knew this time in my life was going to hit. I said "I hate the losses that are ahead of us". I fear losing family and friends and parents.

It has started.

Aunt Joy died yesterday afternoon. The world is a darker, sadder place. I'm not kidding.

Aunt Joy is Mark's aunt. Good woman. Good aunt. Good mother. Good friend. Good grandmother. Good person.

My heart literally aches for dear Uncle Bob. I want to comfort her children and grandchildren. There is no peace in death. I've heard all the canned answers. You know the ones.  "She's in a better place." "He's out of pain now." Whatever. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'M SELFISH and I want the people I love around ME.

Mark has never known a life without Aunt Joy in it. And now we do.

In case you're wondering, nope, I didn't do everything right. I used to write letters EVERY SINGLE WEEK to grandparents, aunts, friends, etc. Time got in the way. I had little kids. I was single. I went to school. I stopped.

Time passed.

I started blogging. Aunt Joy called me last year and told me she read my blog all the time.

I vowed to start writing Joy and Bobby again. I NEEDED to tell them how much I love them. I needed them to know they have made a difference in this world. In my world.

I didn't write. I didn't follow my heart. And now Monday is upon me and found me wishing I had done more.

Movie Madness

I absolutely, positively, without a shadow of a doubt LOVE movies. I like them all. Science fictions, comedies, dramas, love stories, animations, shoot 'em ups. Doesn't matter. I love the movie, the popcorn, the coke and Milk Duds, the gathering of friends/family. Most of all I love the escape I get to enjoy for a couple of hours.

My friend Marilyn, says I'm "easily pleased" with movies. I don't really have high expectations in a movie so when I went last weekend to TWO movies (The Croods and 42) and was THRILLED with both of them...sigh...it was WONDERFUL.

We had a birthday shin-dig for Uncle Mike. We all gathered for dinner and not wanting to separate from the festivities, we decided to hit a movie. The only one playing in the time slot we had available was The Croods.

Shelby and Jaden had gone the weekend before. Shelby told me how great it was and that the story reminded her of her relationship with her dad.

I had no idea how spot-on she was.

That movie "had me" in the opening credits. I remember thinking, while munching on my LARGE tub no-butter-popcorn, that they took the Deason family and animated them. Oh man. They especially nailed Mark and Shelby.

Mark has a tendency of seeing the world through his eyes ONLY. If anyone disagrees or has a different vision, well (duh) they are wrong. Enter Shelby. She sees EVERYTHING differently. Drives Mark INSANE. Let's be honest. She drives Mark, Goose and Tyson absolutely batty. A note of reference here: The other day, Goose told me "You did a great job raising up the boys in the family, but the girls are really screwed up." Oh man. I about fell out of my chair laughing. 

The movie is full of tug and pull between the the dad (Grug) and daughter Eep. Grugs belief is "Be afraid of everything." That's how he has protected his family through the years. 

There is a point in the movie where the family becomes separated. Grug is in a cave and he draws a picture of his whole family, then draws himself wrapping his arms around each of them. 

That sums up Mark. Crazy, strong, loyal, and fiercely protective. 

Shelby has realized that her dad is crazy and mad and strong and tender and kind and lectures ALL the time. All of this is to protect her and the rest of us.

Our family is a force. I used to think that all families were like ours. I now believe we are different. I have found the unique qualities of the Deason's and I have not been left wanting.  When the end of the world strikes, the Deason's will be left standing. Because Mark said so.

I'm not going to spoil the movie. Go see it. 

Waiting for Monday

Yesterday, I decided to partake in one of my most favorite guilty pleasures. I went tanning. I know all the "why's and how's and what if's" about why I shouldn't do it. However, I love to go. I love the warmth and the tan (of course). I only find that I go in the Spring. Maybe it's because I'm digging out my short sleeve shirts and (sometimes) wearing my shorts and I HATE my lily-white-glow-in-the-dark skin. So I tan.

While waiting for the tanning bed to empty out and get cleaned, I was thumbing through People magazine when I ran across an article about Marie Osmond and a book she has written about her son that committed suicide in 2010.

I remember watching the Donny and Marie Show when I was a kid. I thought Marie was soooooo pretty. I wanted to dress like her. Sing like her. Roller skate like her. Nope. Never happened. But it was fun to pretend.

So I read the article.

Marie had performed a full week in Las Vegas and was staying at the Flamingo when her phone rang at about 1:30 in the morning. It was the guard at her gate from her Los Angeles home neighborhood. Someone was there from the coroner's office and they were sending someone to see her at the Flamingo in Vegas.

Marie writes:

On February 26, 2010,my sweet son left me, his family, and friends by jumping from the balcony of his eighth floor college apartment in Los Angeles. Even as I write this I want to cry out, "Please, don't let this be true." 

Marie had talked with Michael and they had made plans for Marie to fly home and to visit with him on Monday. Michael killed himself.

I guess the Osmond family gave Michael the nickname "Mallard". Apparently when he was younger he looked like a baby duck to them and the name stuck.

At the end of the article, Marie talked about ducks and said "on top they are serene and beautiful. Below they are paddling like crazy to stay afloat."

I wonder how many mallard ducks walk amongst us.  I worry about the times I think the people I love are fine, but are secretly paddling like crazy to stay afloat. How many times do I think "I'll do it on Monday."

What if Monday doesn't come?