Mother's Day and studying for two finals Monday

This is my Mother's Day card from Daniel and Jeff. Scott and Marc drew cards for me, but the pix didn't come out :(

Didn't really do much except study. Mom wasn't feeling well so we didn't go anywhere. I spent a good deal of the day here:

in my mom's van, running errands.

Then I put my part of the presentation for the English Comp project from hell together, read a little from my notes in my editing class, some US History stuff (that final is Wednesday), a bit from my English text, then went out and got Mom and me some dinner.

Daniel came home from work and brought me home.

I'm hittin' the hay. Wish me luck tomorrow!

(i'm gonna need it!)

hey, cowboy, ya wanna get tweaked tomorrow?

That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

"All the President's Men"? or more studying? Hmmmm

Thing is, I've seen "All the President's Men" a few times. It's a good movie, and it'd be great if we had actually gotten to that point in history in my US History class this semester. But, we didn't. Besides, you know how it ends: Woodward and Bernstein risk life, limb, and career to figure out the Watergate break in, and that knowledge leads to Nixon's resignation in August of 1974.

But if I have to look at my notes for the two classes I have finals in on Monday one more second, I think I may scream.

I'll be glad to get the English Comp project from hell out of the way. I think all the grey hair I've discovered lately is tied into my worrying about it. Geez, do I have a lot of it!

I think my resolve not to dye it is starting to crumble.
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Last night, I felt like a complete idiot. I'm not at liberty to say why I felt that way, but I did. It's a trust thing.

You'd think I'd have learned something about that by now. But, noooooooooooooooo!
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I'm waiting for Daniel to make up his mind and come over here to pick me up. Both he and Jeff have to work tomorrow, so I'll be spending Mother's Day with my mom, and possibly with my two younger sons. I don't know what's planned for tomorrow. I'm always the last one to know anything in this family.
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When I moved here in 2002, my sister and brother in law had four dogs. Their Jack Russell terrier was hit by a car; then, Buffy got really sick and had to be put to sleep. Just recently, their husky, Nicky, had to be put down as well, mostly from old age (he was like 14 years old!). Now the only one left is Betsy, the border collie, and she's moping around because she misses Nicky. Tori and Dean don't know if they're going to get any more animals in the event that Betsy goes on to her great reward (she's still pretty healthy, but she's no puppy, either).

I'd like to have a cat, but the $200 non refundable pet deposit the apartment complex requires is keeping me from it. Right now, I'm just trying to take care of me. I don't know if I can take care of a cat, too. But, having a purring and playful ball of fluff is comforting.

There'll be plenty of time for that, I guess.
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I hope all you moms, grandmas, stepmoms, adoptive moms and foster moms have a wonderful Mother's Day!



That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

Dari's Friday Flashback #1

Since my childhood was well more than 10 years ago, I thought I'd play along.

And, since Mother's Day is this weekend, I'll start off with this:

For as long as I could remember, my dad always got my mom a card and a gift for Mother's Day. He did it for other special occasions, too, and he did it every time without fail. Sometimes, the cards were funny, or the gift was meant to represent some inside joke between the two of them, or something to just let her know that he appreciated her a lot.

My parents were not the kind to show affection in front of their kids. That's just the way they were. It was part of their upbringing. So when Dad did peck Mom on the cheek for something, my sister and I were surprised.

Dad gave Mom Mother's Day gifts long after we grew up and moved away. Mom didn't stop being a mom when we went out on our own, after all.

My dad died on October 8, 1999. The first Mother's Day after that, when there wasn't the usual card at Mom's place at the table, was the first real time since he died that she cried.

A couple months later, Mom put the house we grew up in on the market, and when it was sold, moved here to Oklahoma.

And I'm sure she thinks about Dad everyday. I know I do.
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If you want to play along, click the picture above. If for some reason I didn't do the HTML crap correctly, click here.


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--

For all moms, and those who love us

I got this from a friend on myspace who's also a mom. I thought instead of passing it along to all the rock bands and college students I have on my myspace list, I'd post it here for everyone to read. If you feel the need to pass it along to your mom, or a mom you know, or if you're a mom, then feel free...

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This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's okay honey, Mommy's here." Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

(And for those of us who sit in a hospital room with their grown son, because he asked you to, after an emergency appendectomy, and because "sometimes, a man just needs his mama.")

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.
And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead, but realize how child abuse happens.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand) mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat. For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then read it again. "Just one more time."


This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at college.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.


This is for all the step-mothers who raised another woman's child or children, and gave their time, attention, and love... sometimes totally unappreciated!

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers who have lost a child, and had to deal with the pain every morning, knowing that they can't go and wake their child up fifteen times, saying, "You're going to be late!"

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.



This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good Mother anyway?

Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips?
The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby? The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home? Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?



The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation...
And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all.

For all of us.

Hang in there.

In the end we can only do the best we can.



Tell them every day that we love them.

And pray.

Please pass along to all the Moms in your life.

"Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall."

Please pass this to a wonderful mother you know.


That's all from where I sit.

--MorelaterZ--