Stuff

One of the things I have been trying to change in my life is my need to buy stuff. The reality is that I have too much stuff. I don't need more things. Going through my grandmother's things after she passed has made this more and more clear for me. It isn't even the first time we have gone through her things to get rid of stuff. She had a crazy collection of things that she kept "just in case." It was her objection to the "throw away" mentality that I liked. Why throw things away that could be used again? She was reusing things long before it was cool. Still, at a certain point not throwing it away overwhelms you and you live in the leftover space.
I know my grandmother would cringe at all the things we have thrown away during the process of reclaiming out garage, but I also know I don't want how I live to be defined by stuff.
The things we keep are her crafts that she lovingly took her time and talents and the items that have stories that go with them. That is what I want to preserve in her stuff. Precious memories and rich stories from our family.
In honor of my grandmother, my kids and I are focusing our Christmas on making memories instead of getting/giving stuff. I am not Black Friday shopping or even shopping Amazon lightning deals. We don't need more stuff in our lives.
I am not by any means a minimalist. I enjoy my large home and all kinds of excess. I don't want my life defined by how little I have any more than I want it defined by how much I have. It's still being defined by stuff. I want my life defined by who I am, most especially who I am in Jesus. How detached I am from my stuff should just be one characteristic in a person who loves God and people. When people go through my stuff when I am gone, I want memories attached to every single thing. Those memories, good or bad, should paint the picture of a person who loves God and people; Maybe a love of learning, travel, and fun as well.

Great-Grandma's Passing

My grandmother passed away Monday night.

I will be writing a longer tribute to her later, but for now this is about my family's reaction.

I heard the news when my mom woke me up in the middle of the night to let me know she had died in her sleep. At that moment I grunted a "I'll call my brothers in the morning" and hugged my husband and tried desperately to fall back to sleep to no avail. My Fitbit later berated me for only sleeping for two hours that night.

My brother's calls were okay. I had been talking to them about what had been going on via a group Facebook message for a while. You see, last week was the week of hospital hell. My grandmother fell the week before that and was recovering (we thought) after a trip to the emergency room. Monday I took my mom to her doctor appointment I think because I needed to get Micah out of the house or something, because I remember he was melting down over something when she came back to the car. She told me that her doctor told her to go to the emergency room right away for a possible heart attack. Micah was in a full rage by the time we got there, so I took him home to try to get him calm. Blah, blah, blah, a bunch more stuff, my grandmother got sicker suddenly and I had to call 911 for her. My mom was admitted to the hospital at that point, so I called then followed the ambulance there. My mom was upstairs, I didn't know everything having to do with her health, but told them everything I remembered and then said they should look at the ER visit from the previous week for more info because my mom was unavailable upstairs. Grandma faded while she was in the hospital little by little. My mom got out, then had to go back in, then I had a visit with my neurologist for other fairly life changing news, and all this made me feel like I was drowning. Oh, and my husband wasn't around because softball. My in-laws took my kids for a good part of the time, though. Saturday we went to visit with my grandmother and found that she had been transferred to the rehab facility, but when we got there, she was barely speaking. Sunday she mom got little response from her, Monday she barely opened her eyes for anyone, then that evening she passed.

My mom is okay, by the way. She had pancreatitis and gallstones, not a heart attack, but it took them all week to figure that out. She had to change her diet pretty severely.

Okay, so that is my short explanation of the week plus of hospital hell.

Now we are dealing with the aftermath. Changing Mom's diet is really the least of my worries. Funeral arrangements, calming my mom down when her sister drives her crazy (her sister grieves and plans differently, so there are bound to be issues), telling my kids, working out the budget without my grandmother's monthly portion of the rent, and figuring out all the little details is really draining.

My twins were pretty easy. It was a short cry when we told them and a bit of apprehension on Zoe's part because she had been the one helping my grandmother from the bathroom when she fell one time, but not the last time.  They knew she was fading. They could see it as they helped her up until she had to go to the hospital. It wasn't unexpected for them.

Micah is different. He processes everything differently. I tell him in a matter of fact way that his Great-grandmother has died. He thinks for a minute. He says, "She lives with Jesus now." He goes back to his game. It's weird, but not everyone is a cryer, right? I'm not. My mom isn't. I don't know why I would expect him to do anything different. Tony is totally a crying kind of person, and that's cool. I make fun of him, but I think my kids would have a harder time if someone around here didn't look like they feel stuff.

Since that conversation we have talked about the funeral. I am giving my kids the choice, for really the first time ever, to go to a funeral. More than anything it's because they lived with this woman. They helped with her care. If a funeral helps them process everything, then they can go. I really don't like funerals and I never go to them. I always feel bad that I don't cry much and when I look around me and see people grieving I feel like I'm doing it wrong. I know intellectually that everyone grieves differently and it's not wrong to do it my way, but social situations like that are hard for me. I never know what others expect and I feel like I should do something different but I don't like to be fake. Anyway, the whole thing is awkward for me.

Micah asked me what a funeral is, and I explained it a bit. I asked him if he wanted to go and he said he did. That could get awkward. You see, Micah is very blunt with every observation. The feelings of of others are never really considered when he opens his mouth. I'm afraid he will have a rough time. I asked our very good friend to help him out during the funeral and take him out if he needs to go, not to hide him, but if he gets uncomfortable to let him have space.

Today was filled with observations from him in the form of statements like "Great-grandma is dead. She doesn't need her chair anymore." They are matter-of-fact and simple ways he is processing the changes that are happening. He told my mom "Don't call it Great-grandma's room. She doesn't need it, she isn't alive. She lives with Jesus." My mom, thankfully not the weepy type just said, "You're right."

The kids are excited to see extended family. It's not for the reasons that anyone would want, but they will like having them around anyway. My brother, Paul will be with them this weekend while Tony and I are in Florida to pick up Becca. She will be told when we get her. I just didn't want to let her hear the news without us around. You see, Becca was the one who over the past year before her summer in Panama got up every morning to feed her great-grandmother breakfast, give her pills, and just calm her. If my grandmother was irritated that I was the one caring for her after school, Becca would jump up and calm her down. She was the favored child. When my grandmother listed her children, she often counted Becca among them. Becca, my grandmother told me, was her favorite.

My other kids were good to her, and she definitely enjoyed them, but Becca stood out for her. Now, I'm sure that any of my cousin's or brother's kids being around would have been favored as well, but Becca was there. Becca gave her hugs without hesitation. Becca loved her even when that meant doing gross stuff for her. Becca is so very special.

Anyway, I don't know how that is going to go over with her. I wanted so desperately for her to not have to come home to this, but it is what it is.

My little bro, Steven will be doing the service for my grandma. He was grandma's favorite during my childhood. I was often told this. My little bro didn't know, but she told me often that I should be more like him. He was the good child. Honestly, he was. The other three of us were horrible. Still, it didn't help that we were constantly told how great he was and how terrible we were.

Steven was definitely the kid that took care of my grandmother before she needed constant care, though. She poured into him so much. He loved her right back. He should do a pretty good service for her.

I still don't know how to feel. I do have a weird hole in my gut since her passing. It's not something that can be fixed by crying. My grandma was a constant presence in my life. She affected me the way no one else can. I know she is with Jesus and Grandpa right now, so feeling sad actually feels wrong. I can't say I wish she was still here because she was in so much pain and honestly, she hasn't been mentally there in quite a long time. She wasn't the same person I grew up with and I really had to separate that long ago when she started yelling at me and telling me that she was going to "get the hospital to fire [me]." She really had no idea who I was, but I rubbed her wrong constantly in the last few years. I knew it wasn't really her, though. While it was rough to hear, I still separated it in my head pretty well most of the time because I knew she wasn't the Grandma that I knew anymore.

It's a strange place to be. It's where I am, though. I'm often strange.

Confessions of a Umpire Widow

My husband is a Little League umpire. He does umpire for other organizations occasionally, but mostly he does Little League.

When I say he is an umpire, I don't mean that it's his job. He has gotten paid for it, and he gets phone calls all the time asking for him to come help out for paying gigs, but it's not about the money. The opposite is more the truth. He's spent more money on umpire stuff than he has ever gotten paid for actually umpiring.

He's a volunteer. That term seems kind of small for all the time, sweat, tears, brain power, and money he has put into this. At this point in his life, it's a defining part of who he is. In the same breath that I say that he is a follower of Christ, a husband, and a father, I have to say he's an umpire.

This year, during the baseball season, and especially the post-season, my husband has been gone. It's totally normal for us, but this year it felt more dramatic because my kids were all playing ball and also the fact that we moved so far away from his work that he has to take off on his morning commute before most of the kids are up. Plus there's the fact that he's running all over southern California in a bunch of districts to help out. It all adds up to my nightmare year.

So that makes me one of a special breed of wives, the umpire widows. Usually known as baseball widows, but Tony was doing both softball and baseball this year. Mostly he was doing softball because he was selected to do the Softball Western Region tournament in San Bernardino. This is kind of a big deal. The winner of that tournament goes to the Softball World Series. One day he will probably end up getting selected for that, and it's in Portland. That will be interesting. We will probably go visit my brother up there if that ever happens.

The weird thing about Tony doing mostly softball this year is that my girls all switched to baseball. Really, the only reason being that Little League doesn't have a softball program here in Menifee. It created a bunch of issues this year with Becca's team, since none of them had ever played ball with a girl before. Still, this blog post isn't really about that.

One of the parents on Becca's team this year asked me how I let my husband volunteer so much. It was so weird. First in that I "let" my husband do anything, as if I had control over his decisions. Sure, I have input, but he's the one calling the shots. Secondly it was weird because as I said before, being an umpire is just who Tony is. If I asked him to stop, he'd be broken.

Now, I have, on many occasions told him to slow down. This year it was when he was umping every night, sometimes until the wee hours of the night and not really getting enough sleep. I had just about had a fit when fatigue made him get into a car accident. It was a pretty minor accident, but honestly, I had been telling him to slow down, he's getting too old for the all-nighters. He just had to learn the hard way. Thankfully nobody was hurt.

I have gotten into many discussions over the years as to why Tony umpires. Sometimes people don't get it why he would volunteer and spend all that time doing this. Sometimes I practically blow off the questions by saying "he loves it." It's true, but it's such an incomplete answer.

My husband is an introvert. Some people who knew him when he was younger don't really believe that, but it's true. He thrives in solitude. He has to have moments of solitude or he won't be okay. It's one reason why his commute is so good for him, but I digress. While solitude is in his nature, sports has always been a way to communicate with him and bring him out of the shell he enjoys. As an umpire, Tony doesn't have to retreat. As a matter of fact, he is most social when he is out on the field, training others to be better on the field, preparing to be on the field, or debriefing after the game. That doesn't mean he doesn't have to have those moments of solitude anyway, but he still thrives when talking about baseball and softball.

This may seem like a total change of subject, but I'm going here anyway. Several years ago, my husband went through a long process of ordination. He's an ordained children's minister. He worked in a church for several years, but things didn't work out for so many reasons that it would be difficult to explain them all. Let's just say that it wasn't a good fit. It's funny, though. It was near the end that he was ordained. The church absolutely recognized that Tony is called by God to minister to children. It's obvious to anyone who has ever worked with Tony in ministry, he's effective and supposed to minister to children and families.

Tony is a secretary for a job. It's weird, because he's really not the most organized person anywhere else, but he's good at his job. Still, I wouldn't say that it's his calling. He's definitely placed in that office for a reason, and he is loved and respected there, but he's there to provide for his family. That's his job.

So, if Tony's calling is to be a children's minister, he's not working at a church, is he wasting that call? Has he given up what God clearly showed him that he should do? Nope. Here's the thing: God doesn't work exclusively inside the church. Tony doesn't have to be doing "Children's Ministry" within the church to be pouring his life into the lives of children. He's meeting them where they are, and in this case, they are on the ball field. His calls are given with all the grace mixed with justice that he can, and it shows. He shows Jesus to them when he calls a game with his cool head despite the people in the stands shouting for his head. He's hurt if he has to throw a kid out, knowing that the kid has to learn a painful lesson. His conversations with the catcher are priceless, and more than one of them has learned much from his quiet voice.

Tony is there night after night for every other kid (as well as his own on occasion) because it's what he's called to do. Who am I to ask him to quit?

So, why Little League? Well, here's the thing about Little League: it's not just a baseball and softball program. Little League is all about instilling character, courage, and loyalty in the lives of the players. It's not about the trophies or pins, it's not even about the post-season games and the World Series. It's about teaching every kid, regardless of where they live or their level of ability character, courage, and loyalty. The regular season is as important, if not more important, as the high level tournaments. This is evidenced most in the Challenger program. These kids will never be all stars. They won't be the kids you watch on TV when they are adults playing for your favorite MLB team. Still, the heart and soul of so many people, including myself at times, is poured into those kids with special needs. Sure, I'm involved because of my boy, so I'm biased, but I have seen the lives of all star players coming out to "buddy" with those kids changed forever. They learn compassion by being out there and letting the kid who can't reach the grounder from their wheelchair throw the ball they picked up. They learn to respect the abilities of the underestimated when they watch a Challenger player who can't talk to them knock one out of the park. They see determination in the kid with no legs scooting his way, as fast as he can around the bases.

The emphasis on playing every player in the regular season is also where Little League shines. There are a ton of rules about minimum play, depending on the level and stuff. My girls play because of these rules. Now, that's not just because they are girls playing baseball, though I know in some ways that is part of it, but only when we have a crappy coaching staff. My girls play for the love of the game, though, not because they are awesome players. The thing is, that's what the season is all about. Sure, they learn and practice and get better from sheer determination, but I'm more impressed with the drive that made them practice swinging for hours than the hit on the ball field. They know that, by the way. I'm super proud and pray at the end of the year that they don't make all stars. Mostly because I don't want to go to any more games. That kinda makes me a horrible mom. Oh, well.

I'm getting off topic.

I really don't like baseball. I know I have said that previously in this blog, but I'm just going to say it again. I don't like baseball.

It's cool. I love my kids and I love my husband, so I'm often seen at a ball park. I also like hot dogs at Angel stadium and the chili cheese fries they make at Bloomington Little League, so I can be happy there for me, too. Menifee doesn't have that great of a snack bar, but to change that I'd have to volunteer, so I'm down with whatever they produce to keep me happy during the times I have to be there.

So what else is there to confess? I'm going to whine at some point in the next week and a half. Tony left this morning to start the Softball Regional Tournament. He is staying there in the umpire dorms as required. I will see him when I give in and show up at one of the games because my kids have begged to go. Not one of the 9am ones, though. That's unreasonable. I would have to get myself and the kids up at school time during the summer to get them there on time. Not happening. Watch him call and ask for me to come to one. I'll probably cave, too.

So why the heck would I let my husband spend most of his vacation days on going to play softball or baseball? I have to. I want to. Sure I want to take a cruise, too, but I'm broke so that's not an option anyway. We get time at Christmas when nobody is playing ball. My kids are not suffering for lack of a parent. I'm here, plus he's here for them, too. Trust me, I know what not having a dad around is like, and this is so not that. He's there for them no matter what and they know it. That's something I never had. Plus I get to be the mom who quietly (sometimes...and sometimes not so quietly) hints to him when his kids need him for something. That's pretty cool.

I'm an umpire widow. I doubt I will ever fully appreciate that when there is a meltdown in my house and my husband isn't here to help out. Thankfully nobody has thrown up while he is on the field *knocks on wood*. I don't do that part of parenting. It's his job. My kids are all old enough to take care of themselves in that anyway. I think he's in the clear for that.

Mostly during the times Tony is gone, I do road trips. I have planned road trips so that he doesn't have to feel guilty about spending all his time on the field and not with his kids. I have also planned road trips to keep me from yelling at my husband for not being there.  I love a good road trip. Christmas time we do the ones with Tony, but I doubt we will do that this year.

This year we are broke. Mostly because of sending our kid to Panama for the summer. Still, there are other factors. Stuff comes up. It's the way life goes. I'm trying to be good with it, but it's hard. Kinda just want the next week and a half to be over. It's a crappy way to think, knowing my husband is right where he should be, but it's where I am right now. That's my confession.