Hi Everyone,

See that girl in the pictures below? It's hard to believe she'll be heading off to college soon. Seems like yesterday she was heading off to kindergarten. Recently, I wrote all about it for the Quad City Moms Blog. Check it out!
Full Circle: When My Mama Heart Compares Kindergarten to College.

Have a great week,

Sheri

I think we’ve all had “those” parenting moments. You know the kind. They’re the moments we reflect back on and say to ourselves, “Gee, we probably should’ve handled that differently.” I suppose it’s bound to happen. After all, parenting is a stressful endeavor.

And so is traveling.

So, if you put both of those together, you know it’s inevitable. Sooner or later, somebody’s gonna lose it.
I’m not sure why traveling turns my husband into such a madman on a mission. He’s never been one to kick back and enjoy the journey. His only goal is to reach his destination in the quickest and most efficient many possible.

For example, during long car trips, potty breaks are only allowed when the gas tank is empty and a pit-stop is unavoidable. Once we’re back on the road, the grumbling begins. “We passed that U-Haul twenty miles ago. Now look, they’re ahead of us!”

Traveling through airports isn’t much better. We had the pleasure of that experience over Christmas break. Curt took one step through the airport’s sliding doors and I could see it in his eyes. The Madman was back.

Before heading through security, Curt called us into a huddle. He handed each of us a slip of paper. “Here. These are your boarding passes. Hang on to them. DON’T lose them.”

We jumped in line and the chaos began. Take off your shoes. Slip off your belt. You can’t take that water bottle. Check your pockets. Put your phone in the tray. Who packed that bottle of hairspray? Take the IPad out of the backpack ...

Finally, after we’d all been scanned, X-rayed and given the official thumbs up, Curt gathered us again for further instructions. “Okay, give me back your boarding passes. I’ll hang on to them until we get to the gate.” We did as we were told.

Well, everyone except Madison. A look of panic crossed her face as she dug through her coat pockets. Curt exhaled. “Where’s your boarding pass?”

“I don’t know.” She shoved both hands into the pockets of her sweatpants.  

“Did you stick it in your backpack?” Curt asked.

“I don’t think …”

“Did you set it down when we went through security?”

“Maybe … “

Madison and I rushed back to security. We checked the conveyor belt. We looked through a stack of plastic trays. We asked an airport worker.

No luck. We sulked back to the rest of our family. Curt looked up from rummaging through Madison’s backpack and shook his head. “I can’t believe you lost it! It’s only been like FIVE MINUTES!”

Speaking of losing it, the ever-growing crease across Curt’s forehead served as our warning … the Madman was also about to lose it.

Nearby, a white-haired woman saw our predicament and leaned over toward me. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered. “My granddaughter lost her boarding pass and they just printed her a new one at the gate.”

I smiled and gave her a nod. But this lady didn’t know the half of it. We’d been through this many times with this kid. She'd lost homework. P.E. clothes. Lunch money. Ball gloves.

Once more, Curt flipped through the stack of boarding passes. “Like I said, I’ve got our four right here. I've got Emily’s … Taylor’s … Sheri’s … He paused for a moment. “Madison’s ...”

“What?” Madison’s eyes widened. “All this time, you’ve had my boarding pass?”

Curt stared blankly at the papers in his hand.

Madison tried not to smile. “Well I guess that leaves us with only one question. Where is your boarding pass, Dad?

The forehead crease softened. “That’s a good question.”

I recently wrote this letter ... one year after my MS diagnosis.  

Dear MS,

It’s been one year since I learned that you’re to blame for my puzzling health problems. And I think it’s time we have a chat.  

First of all, I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to steal the joy from my life. You made me tired – sometimes so weak and tired that I feared I had cancer. You messed with my sense of balance and embarrassed me when I tripped in public. You gave me awful, room-spinning vertigo that made my stomach churn and heart race. You triggered my headaches. You inflicted mysterious, unpredictable pain throughout my body. You gave me anxiety, depression and a slew of other symptoms too personal to mention.   

But I want you to know that your plan backfired. You were hoping to discourage me, but God took everything you dished out and used it to encourage me.

You tried to drive a wedge between my husband and me. Nope. Sorry. This past year I’ve seen so many practical examples of what committed, genuine, real-life love looks like. Yes, at times you put us to the test, but you also confirmed that Curt really meant it when he promised, “In sickness and in health.”

I’m sure you tried to cause tension between my kids and me. Well, it didn’t work. I have noticed; however, that my girls seem more compassionate. For example, while walking through the airport, one of them reached over and took a heavy bag off my shoulder. While waiting for a table at a restaurant, another girl stood up and offered me her chair. I love that they’re thinking of others. It’s kind of a rare quality for teenagers.

You probably figured MS would isolate me from my friends. After all, it can be tough to make plans. But I’ve learned that true friends understand if I need to cancel. They also send me notes of encouragement, listen when I need to vent, pray for my health and bless my socks off in many other ways!  

I’m sure you wanted to discourage me personally – and yes, I’ve had my moments. But overall, I am a more thankful person than I was before you so rudely barged into my life. I am truly thankful when I have a good day with plenty of energy. I used to take those days for granted. When I see someone in a wheelchair or using a cane, I am grateful for the mobility I enjoy. Even if I do trip sometimes.

I’ll bet you thought an MS diagnosis would make me question my faith. Well, here’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned through my experience. Control is an illusion. We may think we’ve got life under control, but we don’t. We can’t even control our next breath. Honestly, I find this comforting. It takes the pressure off me, and puts it on God – a God who created the entire universe and also made me in my mother’s womb. I’m pretty sure He can keep my little life under control.    

Yes, you blind-sided me with the diagnosis, but now I can share my story and hopefully encourage others and raise awareness for a disease I knew very little about only one year ago.

Don’t get me wrong, MS. In case you’re tempted to take credit for these lessons, let me be perfectly clear. You are not welcome here. If given the choice, I would always choose to live life without you. You’re free to go – any old time you’d like. But even if you don’t, I’ll still be okay.

Cordially,

Sheri

I’m not even kidding. This puppy is the epitome of happy. Every time she sees me, she erupts with joy like she hasn’t seen me in years. If I greeted my family members with that kind of enthusiasm, well, I’d look pretty silly. But it works for Macy.    

Sometimes I wonder if my puppy knows something I don't. I mean seriously. How does she stay so doggone delighted with life? Here’s a few things I’ve noticed.   

She loves everyone.
Macy is a total people-puppy. She doesn’t care how you look, where you live, or who you voted for. For example, the other day Taylor and I took Macy with us on a drive. Once we found a parking spot, Macy propped her paws up on an armrest and stared out the window. Across the street, a homeless man with scraggly hair and tattered clothes walked by. She watched his every step. He came closer. She wagged her tail. He passed by the window. Her entire body wagged and wiggled in eager anticipation. Macy didn’t care who he was. She loves everyone unconditionally.

She’s forgives easily.
Last week we took Macy to the vet. I hate looking into her trusting eyes, knowing what she’s in for. But after a quick yelp, she was already over it. She responded with a swift kiss and a happy tail wag. Macy is quick to forgive and she doesn’t hold grudges.

She is thankful.
Macy’s favorite toys consist of a ball, a plastic clothes hanger, a soft toy and an old sock. When we give her one of these items, the enthusiasm is written all over her face ...Yay! There’s my ball! I love my green ball! … Wow! It’s a hanger! I love chewing on hangers! She has no expectations for anything more. She’s just grateful for what’s in front of her.    

She is curious and eager to learn.  
Playing in leaves is a thrilling experience. Exploring snow is an exhilarating adventure. Macy is totally fascinated with everything around her. That’s a quality I need more of.

She naps often.
She’s not worried about checking items off a to-do list. She doesn’t feel guilty about sleeping the afternoon away. If she’s tired, she takes a nap. No bones about it.

She fully enjoys every moment.
Macy doesn’t just fetch a ball. She tears after it and pounces on it. She spins and skids across the floor. When she plays, she gives it 100%. Likewise, when she’s tired, she doesn’t just rest. She rolls onto her back, throws her paws in the air and enjoys a good belly rub. Macy lives life to the fullest in everything she does.

She’s not afraid to show affection.
If Macy likes you, she doesn’t hold back. She gives plenty of kisses (if you let her). She cuddles up close and rests her head against you. She follows you around the house, simply because she wants to be near you. She loves people and she’s not shy about showing it.

Would you like to live a happier life? Try some of Macy’s methods. Worry less, cuddle more. Play hard, but nap often. Be grateful. Love others. Oh! And one more thing I almost forgot. If something’s bothering you, do what Macy does. Just shake it off.