A precious friend is fitting Gig’s wedding dress and last week she sent a text to say it was ready for the first fitting. And she added, “It’s one of the best made wedding dresses I’ve ever seen.”

And I got so excited! Then I burst into tears.

Somehow, knowing that, made the whole thing seem… well, right now – not “down the road a bit”. We’ve spent the last year talking about her getting married and the things that she wants and where it’s going to be and who’s going to be there. And fitting the dress brought it all front and center.

It isn’t about loosing my baby girl…it’s more the changes that I know will be right around the corner.

When we had this little girl, we didn’t think about the day that she’d walk down the aisle. We were counting fingers and toes. And the years flew by and she became my friend as well as my child. She became someone who I was so proud of…she went off to college (maybe dated some duds along the way), then she graduated, got a job,  bought a house and learned, and loved, to DIY all on her own (playing with the electricity still scares me). And made her home and…well, grew up.

And now she’s getting married. In just a few weeks.

I already know that I’m going to cry. I’m a crier. But they will be happy tears – for my precious child/friend. And for the future she’s going to share with a very, very lucky man.

And the dress is going to look beautiful on her. Because she’s beautiful.

The Old Man

I lost a great friend this week…and I’m still grieving..and trying to avoid going in the back yard. And I’m really sad…and thankful…that I was out of town when it happened. Cowardly, I know.

We’d come to call him, “The Old Man” because sweet Jake was 16 years old. That’s 112 approximately in dog years!

There’s a song from long ago by The Pirates of the Mississippi, Feed Jake with a line that goes, “Feed Jake, He’s been a Good Dog”. And The Old Man was a GOOD dog.

Happy Dog

He was the first gift I ever received from my step son… he was supposed to be a miniature dachshund. That’s what he SAID he was getting me. But then he came in with this ball of fur with HUGE feet…and I was keeping him because he gave him to me!

He was a husky-shepherd mix with a black tongue and coarse hair…who shed like a mohair sweater! But, he never had an accident in the house and he was very quiet and just a Great Big Love.

One morning before daylight I was working in the living room, when this sound like the front of the house was coming off got me on my feet running! It was Jake going after someone who wasn’t supposed to be there. He’d raced across the front porch between me and the intruder. He didn’t make a lot of noise, but when he did, like EF Hutton, you listened.

And he LOVED car rides! I’m so glad on the last days that I spent with him, I took him out for a ride. He stuck his nose in the air, not really strong enough to sit up to hang his head out. When he was younger, he was almost royal-like on a car ride. Sitting up at attention, watching everything go by. He loved car rides.

Grey Beard

In His Spot

Gig “borrowed” him once…for about 6 months…while she found and began to raise W. And Jake was a great “big brother”. When W had finally pestered Jake enough, he had this tone that said, “Enough!” I hope W learned how to be a good dog from him.

So we’ve said Goodbye with lots of tears ..and a hope that he’s comfortable once more and riding around Heaven. He was a Good Dog. Well Loved. And Terribly missed.

Going Home

I grew up in a medium size farm town….and I remember, I was ready to get out of there!

I had conversations with both of my kids this week about how they don’t really have a connection to THIS town. And it made me a little sad. Aren’t they supposed to love their home town? I mean, we tried so hard to give them roots, a place to be connected. I didn’t realize how little they connected with the place we’ve called home for so long.

My dad was transferred when I was 16. From Lubbock to Houston. At 16! I went from driving on farm roads to driving in big city traffic. I got lost my first time out alone and ended up in a funeral procession….on I-45…on the other side of Houston! It was traumatic!

And I LOVED going back home…where my friends were, where my grandparents were, where I knew who I was supposed to be and how to get there, figuratively and literally. Lubbock had these amber colored lights all the way around the loop (that’s a small town term for a big circle to drive around town not through town on). At night, flying in, it was this big amber circle shining in the vast darkness of the plains. It meant you could see HOME from a long way out. And it felt good to ‘come home’. I haven’t lived there since ’76, but it’s still “home” in my mind. It’s where my roots are…part of what made me who I am. My home town.

Maybe that’s the problem. That was my home town AND it was HOME. But those are different. HOME was my grandparents’ house. HOME is where Fred is. HOME is where I’m connected. Not a city…but a place of my heart.

I guess I needed to have that conversation…about the city. So I can be grateful that they come HOME to see me…I thought there was a lesson maybe that I failed to teach them…But perhaps it was a lesson I needed to learn myself. HOME is different from hown town. One is where you live. The other is where you LOVE. And it doesn’t matter if my kids don’t feel connected to their home town as long as they know where HOME is.

What about you? Do you like your home town? Where’s your HOME?

Is it EVER going to be done?! This raising of kids? My nest is empty, but I’m not finsihed being a mom.

There’s a slew of ladies at my office (the ‘young-guns’ I call them) having babies. It does seem to come in waves…and sometimes I just want to look deep into their eyes and say, “….it never ends…go back! Run! Forrest! Run!” But then I see the glow in their eyes and remember the excitement and I keep my thoughts to myself. Well, ok, I put them here, but I didn’t say them into the GLOW. It’s too late any way.

And I remember the delight of watching my kids grow up, the things they discovered, the things they taught me. New eyes seeing old things. And I wouldn’t trade that…

Sometimes it’s just pure pleasure to have adult children…and sometimes….well sometimes they are still the kids and you’re still the mom. And even adult children can be brats. (OK, moms can be brats too but not as often!)

And sometimes it hurts being a mom.

All the things you worry about…are they happy, did I teach them the right things, was I a good mom …who will take care of me when I can’t take care of myself? (And that’s a WHOLE other blog post for much later!)

But really, my point is, you don’t ever get to quit being a mom. Even if sometimes you may want to.

I think you change (grow up) and the relationship changes (maybe more than any other relationship you ever have), but you’re still the mom.

And now you have to learn to be a diplomat too. And a friend. And to keep your mouth shut sometimes. And to wait….to wait until it’s their time. Their time to find their own way, their own feet, their own place in the scheme of things. And sometimes that waiting is hard.

And sometimes, you just wish they were still little enough to protect…..or to spank when they are misbehaving…or to tuck them safely in their bed at night like back when you delusionally thought you had some control.

Someone should have told me..it takes a long time to raise kids…to be a mom….maybe forever!