Who’s The Glue of Your Family

There is usually one woman in every family who becomes the glue. The one who thinks about everybody, keeps track of birthdays, plans the holidays, comes up with things for everyone to do and tries to keep the family connected. She plans it, shops for it, spends the money, decorates, organizes, takes the pictures and tries to make sure everyone—especially the kids—is having fun. Most of the time, everyone else just gets to show up.

Being the glue can be exhausting, and it can also be incredibly unappreciated. The woman trying to keep everyone together is often called bossy. She expects too much. She tries too hard. She makes too big a deal out of things. She takes too many pictures. There can be an eye roll or negative comment for almost everything she does. But what looks like “trying too hard” to everyone else may simply be someone who loves her family enough to put effort into making memories.

And here’s an idea: instead of having an opinion about everything after it’s already planned and done, offer to help while it’s still in the planning stages. Help come up with the idea. Make a reservation. Bring something. Decorate. Pay for part of it. Ask, “What can I do?” It’s pretty easy to point out what could have been done differently when someone else did all the work. If you want a voice in how things are done,don’t wait until the day everything’s done.

The funny thing is, family memories don’t magically happen. Somebody thought of the Christmas tradition. Somebody planned the family outing. Somebody bought the decorations and stayed up late putting them out. Somebody convinced everyone to play the silly game. Somebody got all the kids together and made them stand still long enough for that picture everyone will treasure twenty years from now. And yes, everybody probably complained while she was taking it.

Maybe families should be a little easier on their glue. Instead of teasing her for taking another picture, smile for the damn picture. Instead of complaining about the activity, participate. Instead of telling her she tries too hard, recognize how much effort it takes to keep a family connected as everyone gets older, busier and pulled in different directions.

Because eventually the kids grow up, holidays change, people move away and some of the people in those annoying pictures aren’t here anymore. Suddenly those silly traditions and hundreds of pictures don’t seem quite so ridiculous.

The glue isn’t trying to control the family. She’s trying to hold onto it.

And every once in a while, somebody should probably thank her for that.

Apparently, I Am a Walker Now

Three weeks ago, I started walking every morning. I’m not exactly sure what possessed me to do this, but I have discovered something completely unexpected—I actually enjoy it.

I started out with a quarter of a mile, because apparently I had no intention of overachieving. But it didn’t take long before I worked my way up to two miles a day. It takes me about 40 minutes, and by the time I get home, I need a shower!

There are quite a few people in my neighborhood who walk, especially on the weekends, so I’ve started getting to know the regulars. Well… “getting to know” may be a little generous. I know them in the way you know people you pass every morning but have never actually introduced yourself to.

I have the Hawaiian man who rides his bike while he sings. I don’t know what he is singing, but he seems very happy about it, and honestly, I respect that.

I have also made friends with several dogs, a few cats and even a rabbit. Although, I’m pretty sure the rabbit wasn’t interested in friendship. He hopped in a deep bush and turned to look at me. So I guess that friendship is still pending.

There are two older couples who walk together, and then there’s a Vietnamese couple. She walks ahead of him and he spends most of the time playing catch-up. And I’m not saying he walks slow, but she doesn’t exactly walk fast. I’m beginning to think their morning walk is less of a stroll and more of a relationship exercise.

There’s also a woman who works out in her garage while her baby sits in a bouncer watching her. I admire that woman. She has figured out how to exercise while parenting, and that deserves some kind of award. Or at least a really good cup of coffee.

Then there is the man who runs through both neighborhoods. He wears all black and checks his watch constantly. I have no idea what he is timing, but I know where he lives and sometimes he runs. He looks serious about this running business.

There’s another lady who walks her dog, and they are both very serious about it. They walk perfectly straight, and that dog never looks my way. Not once. And let me tell you, that is one tight leash. That dog knows he has a job to do, and apparently his job is to ignore me.

We also have roofers all over the neighborhood. So now I have accidentally added “neighborhood nail patrol” to my morning routine. Anytime I see a nail in the street or yard, I pick it up. I’m not sure when I became responsible for neighborhood construction debris, but here we are. The nails change location depending on which house is being roofed.

There is also one particular sidewalk that I’m convinced is where all the worms in Oklahoma go to live. It is always covered with worms. I don’t know why they all gather there, but apparently they have a meeting every morning. I just try not to step on anybody.

And then there is a sidewalk that looks like they poured the concrete right in the middle of a downpour. It is covered in little dents and divots, like the world’s worst case of cellulite. I’m pretty sure that sidewalk is self-conscious.

Also, there is an etiquette to walking that I never knew existed. If I see someone coming, I give up the curb. But if they see me coming, they do the same thing. So then we have this awkward little sidewalk dance where two people are trying to be polite while silently deciding who gets the good side.

The main thing I’ve learned is that I really like walking before it gets too hot. Very important when you live in Oklahoma and would prefer not to suffer heat stroke before breakfast. So far, I’ve managed to get my walk in every morning, even in the middle of moving. And honestly, I’m pretty proud of myself.

I also take solace in having other people out walking when I am. Somehow, seeing strangers along my route makes me feel safer. I guess there’s comfort in knowing I’m not the only person out there. Of course, I also carry my pepper spray and have an alarm, just in case somebody decides my morning walk needs an unexpected plot twist.

At this point, I have my route, I know where the worms live, I know which dogs will acknowledge me and which ones apparently have no interest in socializing, and I know who is going to be out walking.

I’m sure the neighborhood walkers have noticed me by now too. I wonder what they call me. Probably something like, “There’s that sweaty lady again.” And honestly, I’m okay with that.

I Might Have Missed My Calling

Oh Lord… we’re moving! And I don’t mean moving and grooving moving. I mean 'pack up my house, buy 60 boxes, lose the tape 40 times in an hour, have the marker dry out, and discover that Dennis has apparently decided the entire attic needs to come downstairs' moving!

We decided to get out from under the pool. Sure, the grandkids love it, but Dennis and I rarely get in it, and Dennis is over taking care of it. So we started talking about it and thought, why are we paying to take care of something that we hardly use?

So we decided to put the house on the market. Now, we have sold three other houses, so we know how this works. I personally sold one of them very quickly because I had a friend who wanted it, but the other two took over a year! Knowing it is a buyer’s market, we figured this one would probably take some time, too. We definitely didn’t want to end up paying two mortgages, so we thought we would put it on the market and start building our new house and see what happened.

Well, I designed this house with a private architect, so it is a little different. It is a custom-built house, and we built it for what WE wanted. We have a library, a craft/writing hut, and we only put two bedrooms in it so our grown kids didn’t get any ideas. We have a beautiful outdoor living area with a large pool and a huge backyard on a corner lot. Every tree is lit, and there are gardens around the pool. It is a beautiful house, but we knew we were probably looking for a very specific buyer. I figured it might take MONTHS to find somebody who wanted exactly what we had built. I wanted to get that head start on selling while we began building our new house.

Anyway, we decided to go ahead and put it on the market, so our realtor got all the information from us, had professional pictures taken and got it posted online. And then the phone rang. Within minutes, we had a call for a first showing. Well… okay then.

Our realtor came over at 11:00 to show the house for the first time and put a big ol’ “FOR SALE” sign in our yard. We had another showing scheduled for 6:30 that evening. Dennis was already griping about having to leave the house for showings. LOL. Then someone else was getting ready to make an offer on another house and wanted to squeeze ours in at 6:00.

So the 6:00 people came and looked at the house and apparently loved that it wasn't like any other houses they had seen. While the 6:30 people were STILL HERE looking at the house and thinking about making an offer, the 6:00 people made an offer.

I’m sorry… WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? We don't have a house to move to yet! We went from “Let’s put the house on the market so we have more time to sell it” to “Holy crap, we sold the house!” in SIX HOURS!! That poor “FOR SALE” sign didn’t even have time to get comfortable in my yard before it went “Pending” on the website.

We thought this might take months. We were prepared for showings. We were prepared to keep the house clean. We were prepared for the possibility that it might take over a year. What we were NOT prepared for was that it would sell within the first 6 hours and that we would have 7 weeks to move.

So here I sit, taking a break from packing and wondering if I missed my calling in designing houses!

I Rolled My Eyes So Hard I Saw My Brain

 I just rolled my eyes so hard I saw my brain.

At least I think it was my brain. It could've been one of those random floaters. Once you hit a certain age, it's hard to tell what's a medical condition and what's just Tuesday.

Honestly, eye-rolling isn't what it used to be. There was a time when you could roll your eyes at somebody and move on with your day. Now it's a full-body event.

First, my eyes roll. Then my neck pops. My shoulder makes a sound like somebody stepped on a bag of potato chips. Somehow my knee gets involved even though it had absolutely nothing to do with the situation. And afterward, I have to sit there for a minute and make sure everything went back where it belongs.

Getting older is wild. We don't just react anymore... we recover.

I can't even sigh dramatically without wondering if I pulled something. And don't get me started on sneezing. At our age, a sneeze is less of a reflex and more of a gamble. Will I survive? Will I throw my back out? Will I accidentally pee a little? Nobody knows.

It's like spinning the Wheel of Fortune, except the prizes are muscle relaxers, heating pads, and an appointment with the chiropractor.

The funny thing is, I don't even roll my eyes over big things anymore. Someone says, "Have you tried turning it off and back on?" Eye roll. The grocery store rearranges everything for absolutely no reason? Eye roll. Someone announces they're leaving Facebook for the third time this month? Eye roll... even though we all know they'll be back by Thursday.

Somewhere along the way, my body stopped saying, "That was dramatic."

Now it says, "That'll be three days to recover."

So yes... I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my brain.

The good news is I finally know where it is.

The bad news is I think I strained my neck finding it. 😂

Play The Silly Games!

I hear people talk all the time about how important it is for kids to have grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and extended family in their lives. And I agree. But here’s the thing nobody seems to mention. You actually have to build the relationship. You can have 47 relatives sitting in the same room at Christmas and that doesn’t mean those kids have a relationship with any of them. And really, why have a family if you don’t want to be part of it?

Being Grandma doesn’t automatically create a bond. Neither does being Grandpa, Aunt Whoever or Uncle So-and-So. That’s your title. The relationship comes from what you actually DO with them. Play the silly games. Go watch them play ball, dance, sing, act or whatever they’re into this month. Listen to the 15-minute story that you still don’t understand. Ask them questions. Remember what they told you last time. Laugh with them. Take them somewhere. Teach them something. Let them help you cook. Sit down and actually TALK to them. And for heaven’s sake, put the phone down once in a while.

Kids notice who pays attention to them. They know who lights up when they walk through the door and who barely looks up. They know who makes them feel interesting, funny, important and loved. You can spend years sitting in the same room with a child and still be practically a stranger to them.

Then someday you can’t wonder why they don’t call, don’t visit or don’t seem particularly close to you. You can’t ignore their little world for years and then suddenly expect to be an important part of their big one. DNA gave you the connection. You still have to do the work to build the relationship. Family isn’t something you just have. It’s something you participate in.