My Husband's Mid-Life Crisis

Some of you know my husband's name is Scott.

Some of you know that my husband is getting older.

We're the same age, but he is 8 months older.

In my mind, that's way older.

At 47, I guess we're officially middle-aged.

He's just more middle-aged than me.

Remember, he's way older?

He's having a mid-life crisis.

I'm seeing the signs.

There are things about his life he wants to change.

Some men buys sports cars.

Some men start working out.

Some men get toupes.

Not my man.

When we go out to eat,

on those rare date nights,

I know it's almost time to

"belly-up-to-the-bar" when the teen-age waitress hollers,

"Jack, table for two,

JACK!"

Yep, he wants to change his name to

Jack.

He bemoans we didn't name one of our sons Jack.

He wonders out loud if he could get away with a legal name change.

It gets really bad when he dreams about me changing my name to Jill.

Just when I was getting used to my hubby of 25 years being called

JACK,

he began showing other fruit of his aging crisis.

He went into a store.

A store he's never gone into before.

A store where he doesn't really belong.

He bought something he's never bought before.

Something that isn't the usual thing a man of his integrity would buy.

In the store people were eyeing him with curious snickers.

I was actually getting a little uncomfortable.

I tell ya', this middle-age crisis thing is getting a little dangerous.

I'm a little worried about what he's gunna' do next.

Yea, that's his Monkey, Jack.

Jack is wearing,

(I have to whisper this part) - whitie tidies,

(back to my normal voice)

jeans and a flannel shirt.

Jack is from Minnesota, can ya' tell?

Jack was eyeing the fishing outfit,

but he'll have to get that later.

Ya' know I was describing Monkey Jack's clothes,

not Hubby Jack's clothes, right? 

Right.

I think he was feeling left out with all the adventures

Rebekah and I have with our Build-A-Bear Monkies.

Speaking of feeling left out,

Daddy let her help.

I think it soothed that uncomfortable feeling that all

the other kids in the store were getting toys,

not watching their Dad splurge.

(don't mind the pics, those cell phone things aren't high quality)

Daddy Jack picked out the clothes, but she got to dress Baby Jack.

Daddy Jack a little incredulous over his momentary weakness.

After all, this is a man used to buying things with

power cord and engines, not stuffing and a tail.

Formerly, this man's happiest day,

next to marrying me,

 was the day he bought his Stihl chainsaw.

How well I remember his thrill, 

"Honey, it's a STIHL.  A REAL STIHL."

I think he had a tremor in his voice,

he was so awestruck with his good fortune.

He's a Minnesota boy through and through.

That day, he was so happy he just began cutting stuff up.

See why I call this a crisis?

He goes from Minnesota woodsman to stuffed animal owner?

Buying toys is my normal behavior, not his.

I guess if the neighbors hear the chain saw in the next few weeks,

 they better beware.

It will be the prelude for Lumber Jill's mid-life crisis.

********
Follow me over to Kim's for more laughs!

The Year of the Monkey

This new year sneaked up on me the way Christmas did.  I just wasn't ready for it.  I hadn't planned any special event or snacks to ring in the new decade, I hadn't even thought about any resolutions except that nagging weight thing we all think about and the need for writing goals for the new year.

At one point during the last day of the year, as we were scampering around the house, cleaning up the mess we created by accidentally locking the cat in the house while we were in CA for Christmas, I began thinking about the new year, and I panicked...just for a moment. The past decade held many sorrows and trials for us, I had a sudden fear for the year ahead.  What if.....What if....What if....

I was worrying. At the same time my thoughts were racing, my husband was coming down the hall, saw my face, embraced me and soothed me with kisses and words of encouragement.  In a minute, those doubts, those weak lack-of-faith thoughts were gone. The whole episode took less than two minutes.

It was a perfect earthly example of the Heavenly Father's arms.

Deuteronomy 33:27, "The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." How quickly we need to fly into our Father's arms and let Him comfort our fears, soothe our souls and show us His everlasting love.

Since I felt that human need to do something for the new year,  Beka and I planned a trip to Build-A-Bear.

My monkey has been a celebration of my family's support through cancer, and Beka's has been a way to help her cope.  She was 2 when I was first diagnosed, and has needed her own way of living with cancer.

Our love language is monkeys around here; I have loved them since I was a little girl.

When we stopped in the restroom, we were delighted the mall's bathroom was so accomodating.  Our babies rested while we washed our hands. The dollar bins at Target are a great source of for seasonal t-shirts for the BAB animals.

Even the candy machines were following our theme.

At the mall, most of the women my age are getting their nails done, getting facials, make-overs, buying their $1000 purses and their designer clothing.  I was, and always have been, the only Mom walking through this upscale mall holding her own BAB,

                                     

and  the only Mom giving her animal a spa treatment.

Too many choices!  We were enticed by the inline skates and the casual wear, but Beka's heart was really with the formal dresses. I realized that often we parents "guide" our children's choices, so they end up buying what we want them to.  It took a long time for Beka to choose because I repeatedly told her to choose for her, not me. It was an interesting lesson in decision making.

She later discussed this process with her Daddy, and I realized her huge hesitation was that the dress had spaghetti straps, something we choose not to wear as a family for modesty sake.  Her heart is so tender.

We purchased the  formal gowns, then dressed the monkeys near the fountain.  The store was so crowded, everyone in the vicinity that received a BAB gift card for Christmas was in the store. No wonder it took 15 minutes to go the  three blocks from the interstate to the mall.

We tossed my four pennies into the fountain, my next purchase I was short one penny and had to use my debit card. 

I came home tired, trafficed and shopped out, Beka came home and set to making dinner.  I didn't ask her to.  She chopped things for a salad, had Daddy help her make a pizza, then we sat on the cushionless couch (they are STILL drying) and watched a movie together.

We are ready to face a new year, with faith, hope, and acceptance for whatever the year brings, and we'll do it with very well-dressed monkeys.

Build-A-Bear Excursion

A nice quiet Saturday evening was the perfect time to cross one more thing off my

To Do List.

This was a fun chore, one every Mommy should put on her list.

A trip to Build-A-Bear with our matching monkeys.

We had to begin by "bathing" the monkeys with jets of air and soft brushes. Beka had to explain to me how to step on the peddle below the "bathtub" to turn the air on.
Beka is learning to use my camera.

She's getting a little better.

I think she gets it. She also didn't get a dorky look on my face this time.

My monkey looks like she is enjoying her spa day.

Too Many Choices!

Doesn't that sound like the title of a Berenstain Bear book?

After seeing their selection of pajamas, we scrapped that idea.

I can't believe they didn't have footie sleepers or flannel nighties!

This Mommy might have to start sewing again.

We finally made our final decision and dressed our monkeys.

Instead of twins, Beka decided they would be best friends for awhile.

I think that is because she didn't love the same outfit I loved.

But, we'll share.

She learned the art of sharing when she realized that her Mommy buys toys for Beka

AND toys for Mommy.

If I ever bought something for myself, I would always hear her concerned little voice,

"We share, Mommy, wight? We share."

Momma dressing the well-loved Monkey With No Name.

I can't believe I forgot my monkey's name!

Actually, yes I can. I can't even remember my OWN children's names all the time.

A very patient Daddy taking the final shot of the Crazy Monkeys and the dolls.

I'm Tired of Cancer!

 I was tired and achy, but it was too early to go to bed. Instead, I crawled up onto Rebekah's bed so I could be with her while she finished cleaning her room.

Our roles suddenly reversed. She found her Strawberry Shortcake blanket and covered me up. She would occasionally set down what she was putting away and come over and caress my cheek with one of her soft kisses. She would stare at me adoringly, as if I were the most important person in the world.

Knowing that my upcoming surgery and hospitalization would be hard on Rebekah, I thought of a plan to help her prepare her for the inevitable. When I first had cancer, the kids went to Build- A- Bear and created a special monkey with six hearts in it, one for each kid, and with a voice box that says, "I Love YOU!" when you press her arm. Part of my cancer tradition with Rebekah has been to go the the Build-A Bear store each anniversary and buy a new outfit. I plan to have the monkey with the most outfits in the world, because I want to live many, many years. My plan was also to remember the monkey's name, but that part hasn't worked out so well. Little details have begun to slip through my mind like money through a teenager's fingers.

About two years back, I found the identical monkey at the thrift store, so Beka and I have matching monkeys we love to dress and play with. When McDonald's had baby BAB monkeys in their Happy Meals, we suddenly had a very large, adorable family.

I decided if I took the monkey to the hospital, Beka could help pack my suitcase and the monkey's. That way, when she came to visit me, she could also change the clothes for me. Of course, this meant we had to plan a trip to Build-A-Bear to buy matching pajamas for our matching monkeys. I thought I had found a wonderful diversion and a way to make the countdown a little more pleasant.

I knew I needed to broach the actual separation of us being apart. "Beka, aren't you glad that we have been getting used to being apart? I have gone on a few trips and Bethany has been taking care of you every Wednesday."

After a few more minutes of chatting and cleaning, Beka stopped in her tracks and stood next to the bed, her sweet, little face twisted with sobs so large she couldn’t even exhale. I had her crawl onto the bed with me and we snuggled like spoons while she cried and cried. "You have been gone SO much!" I tried everything to console her.

When she had settled down, I asked her if she wanted to pray. I was shocked when she said, "No," but I appreciated her reasoning. "I don't want to start crying again." I prayed with her and the tears began again.

After about 15 minutes, Daddy peaked his head in the door with the Daddy solution, "C'mon, Beka, come sleep with us."


The next morning she woke up so happy and rested, and I was relieved. I asked her how she liked sleeping with us.

"Fine," she said, but wrinkled her nose and continued, "but Daddy takes up a LOT of room!" A few minutes later I discovered where her thoughts had gone to in the following silence.



"I'm tired of cancer."