Think you’re having a bad day/month/year?  Turn on the news.

I’ve had a hard time pulling myself away from CNN the past couple of days, as Hurricane Harvey devastates our fellow Texans and our friends in our previous home of Louisiana.  The scenes are unbelievable.  Truly.  I’ve seen a few photos on Facebook that have made me stop and question, “Is that actually real?”  It’s difficult to put ourselves in the positions of the people we see in these images, but it’s a valuable lesson in perspective when we do just that.

Just a few days ago, for example, I was complaining about the unending construction near one of the major retail centers in town.  Yesterday when I left a store in that area, I was grateful the roads were closed due to construction, not floodwaters.

At home, my sons may refuse to eat many of my dishes . . . but I have food to offer them.  Both give us trouble at bedtime and would rather sleep in Mama and Daddy’s bed . . . but we have warm beds for everyone.  I don’t enjoy cleaning my house, but I have a house to clean.  My Tahoe has over 100,000 miles on it, but I have a vehicle.  My husband works long hours and is often away from home, but he has a job that provides for us.  We struggle to get homework done every night, but our school still stands.  My son broke his wrist while on vacation, but he is alive and healthy.

As I sit and type this, I have electricity.  I have clean water within an arm’s reach.  After I finish this, I plan to shower and get ready to attend church service at a building that still stands.  I have clean, dry clothes to wear.

And as I listen to my younger son play with trains and sing his own version of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” in the next room, I have great reason to smile.  May I never, ever take any of these precious blessings for granted.

May God bless Texas and Louisiana.

As I write this, I’m listening to the rain hit the back porch–a rare and lovely sound for this area of West Texas.  I know this, yet the sound also makes me sad.  I suppose it’s because I’ve been a little sad all week.  The beginning of school–or the end of summer–has always had that effect on me.

A few months ago, I spent Memorial Day, the kick-off to summer, with my family in Arkansas.  While there, we also celebrated my 40th birthday with an 80’s-themed party at my sister’s home.  Perhaps it was the trip back in time to the days of neon–or perhaps it was the fact that I turned 40–that I found myself feeling quite nostalgic on the way back to Texas.  As I listened to Sirius XM Radio, hits of the 80’s and 90’s, I began reminiscing.  I experienced that feeling I always associated with the beginning of summer–one of joy and possibility.  When I was a young “tween” and teenager, that was a magical time.  What would I do this summer?  Where would I go?  Would it be romantic and magical like the storylines of my favorite soap operas?  Would I find myself on a grand adventure like those in my favorite books?  The possibilities, at least so I thought, were endless.

Alas, my summer was never quite filled with those sorts of adventures–unless you count the ones I created in my mind.  Of course, I had days of sleepovers (bunkin’ parties), swimming, cheerleader camp, etc.  But they never quite matched the outrageous fun in my mind.  (Except one summer, I did meet a really cute pool boy on a trip to Florida–but that’s for another time).  In my mind, I became Madonna and Debbie Gibson as I listened to my sister’s cassette tapes and danced around the room in full costume.  When my friends and I watched New Kids on the Block videos, we truly believed we could be plucked from the crowd and given the undying love of Jordan or Donnie.  (Jordan is still the cutest.)  When I, slathered in baby oil, sunbathed in the back yard and read the entire Sweet Valley Twins series, I became Jessica and Elizabeth.  (Really, didn’t we all want to be Jessica?  She was the cooler one, right?  But I was definitely more of an Elizabeth.  I digress. . . )

When you’re 13 and without much of an active social life, the summer days sometimes drag on and on as you yearn for real-life adventure.  Such was the case for me.  Summers didn’t always fly by as they seem to today.  Nevertheless, each morning brought a new chance for fantasy and the possibility that, today, my fantasy just might come true.

Inevitably, fantasy gave way to reality as school lists once again adorned the aisles of local department stores.  For a moment, this would also excite me–oh, the possibilities of a new school year.  Would I be popular?  Would my secret crush finally reveal his love for me, as well?  Would we hold hands down the hallways of the school building?  Still, the Sunday evening before the first day of school, I typically found myself sitting outside and reminiscing.  Summer was over–all the grand adventures, real or imaginary, were complete.  And never again would I be 11, 12, 13, etc.  The school year, often a time of stress for me, signaled growing up, and I just wasn’t always ready to do that.

So it seems that with every school year since, I have felt that sense of sadness–not really dread, but the end of something.  The end of an era?  The end of childhood?  The end of innocence?  As my older son began third grade this week, I found myself crumpled into my husband’s arms as I cried.  I don’t want him to grow up.  I want him to be young and innocent forever.

Honestly, I will probably feel this way through much of September, typically a time of sadness for me.  But as football games, Halloween, and other fun fall activities take over our busy schedules, I will settle into the school year and experience all the joy that comes along with it.  I will stop grieving the time lost and look forward to the times ahead.  But for now, I am still a little sad.  Goodbye, magical summer . . .

Several months ago, near the beginning of summer, I had a moment of nostalgia. A memory–really a feeling–swept over me as I drove back to Texas from a recent visit to my home in Arkansas.  During that moment, I thought, (as I often do when I have one of “those” moments) “I should put this into writing.  I need to record this memory and how it made me feel.  I want my kids to know about this one day.”  But life took over again, and I failed to record it.  And the feeling, along with time, slipped away again.

This blog is my attempt to record those moments on a more regular basis.  I turned 40 this year.  You will see that this fact permeates much of this blog, as it was, surprisingly, a big deal to me.  More than any other birthday, it made me stop and reflect on the notion of growing older.  Not to be “doom and gloom,” but I know I’m probably nearing, at best, the halfway point of  my life.  It’s time to start doing all the things I’ve been putting off.  It’s time to make time.

As a mom of two busy boys–Cade, 9, and Jase, 3–I don’t expect to sit daily and ponder the meaning of life in this blog.  Instead, when those special memories and personal opinions on the great topics of life flood my thoughts, I plan to find time to put them into writing.  I want my boys to know about their mama.  And though I do spend a lot of time just talking to them, I know that they will appreciate my observations and explanations more when they are much older. So, boys, here is a little glimpse into the mind of Mama.  If you, the reader, happen to enjoy it along the way, all the better.

With all my love,

Kristen aka Mama