Monday, September 19, 2016

The Art Of Letting Go

I don't know who out there will read this today.  It has been so long since I sat down to write that I fear my fingers have rusted and my keyboard is collecting social security.
It isn't for lack of wanting to write.  Though I do admit to a modicum of laziness, that seems inherent in many of us artistic types.  No, my lack of verbosity has been a hard, self imposed exile. For years now, I have written to you about the ups and downs in the crazy land of Skiff.  The stories have been shared through much laughter and many tears.  However, now the Skiff boys have come to an age where their stories should be their's to share when they are ready, or at the very least mine to share when they grant me permission.  The teenage years are wrought with heartache, turmoil, growth, expansion and self actualization.  To be asked to do that while your mother is sharing your struggles with the world is unfair.

This has left me in a bit of a conundrum.  How does one gain glimpses into Skiffdom, when so many in Skiffdom long for anonymity?  I think I've figured some of that out now.  I will once again be blogging but much of it as it pertains to my children will be in a more general sense.  I do believe there is a great need for information regarding navigating these crazy teen years, especially with special needs children.  I will share what I'm learning and hopefully learn from some of you who are on the same road.  Together, we will survive. ;)
This also provides me an opportunity to share some of the things that I am learning and growing in.  I get a chance to challenge myself to be truly transparent, even in the things I find most uncomfortable; my struggles and failings.  
 My friends, there is no quick way for me to catch you up on the past six months in Skiffdom.  It has been insanely eventful: my husband changed jobs, we moved to be closer to said job. My boys started a new school system (which has been amazing). We had some extreme medical expenses, a car accident (funnily enough this wasn't related to the medical expenses), appliance deaths, our old land lord is suing us for a $20k in damages to the house we lived in for 8 years (damages we dispute. He renowed the house after we moved.).  Through a series of strange events my husband started his own company, he left the "new" 40 hour a week  job to fully pursue growing his business, after receiving several large contracts, more unexpected and crazy expenses and a few failed contracts later, we are now on the verge of losing everything: house, cars, great new school district, EVERYTHING.
I don't share this because I want you to feel sorry for us or because I want someone to magically fix this mess.  Indeed, I did everything I could to hide how bad things had become.  After all, we may be a bit zany but we are responsible adults, who are generally respected and well liked.  We are not the kind of people who end up in these types of positions, or so I told myself.
In fact, had a dear friend not created a Go Fund me account once she heard our story, you still would not be hearing about this.
With the Go Fund me suddenly everyone knew that we were in crisis.  I thought having special needs kids had cured me of my pride issues but I was wrong.  I had to truly humble myself and be vulnerable before family, friends and strangers in a way I never thought I would have to be.  I thought I lived my life in a very transparent and genuine way but I was still holding back some essential truths; truths I found embarrassing.  The past two weeks has been me learning to let go of pride.
I thought my lessons were done for a bit.  After all how much more do you want from me God?
Today, on the way home from the courthouse, I realized my lessons were far from over.
I've never been one to hold material things too tightly.  I was raised in a family where money was always a struggle.  I was raised with plenty of love and strong moral character but we didn't have a lot in the way of earthly possessions.  That combined with the fact that I've moved 30 times in my 39 years of life, gave me a rather different perspective on things. Things are replaceable, people are not" has always been my motto.  So today when I realized I needed to let go of things, I was kind of shocked.  Things aren't a huge deal to me.
Then I realized that the things I need to give up are so much less tangible than a toaster or a chair. I need to give up my insatiable need for security. We live life on the edge in many ways, so many don't realize how much I shroud myself in a blanket of security.  Security of a good job, security of a great school district, security that no matter what challenge arises, my husband and I would find a way to beat it.  The truth is though none of those things are wrong, and in most cases are wise and true, they are not where my security comes from.  Jobs can come and go, no matter what the school district, I will always have to fight for my special needs education, and my husband and I are not able to beat every struggle that arises on our own.  Our security, my security, can not be found in things, even if they are intangible.  My security must be wrapped up in Christ because he is the only one who will never fail me.
This is my lesson to grow in.  This is my burden to lay down.  Lord, give me the strength to follow you into the shadow lands,  knowing that you will never lead me astray,


Glimpses of Skiff: The Art of Letting Go

Glimpses of Skiff: The Art of Letting Go: I don't know who out there will read this today.  It has been so long since I sat down to write that I fear my fingers have rusted and ...

Sunday, June 28, 2015

A Glimpse of Becoming

Becoming: noun
1. the process of coming to be something or of passing into a state.
as defined by Google

It's no secret that the pass few years have been a time of great change and growth for me.  For so long I tried to suppress my true personality so that I could be what I had been taught was a Godly woman: aka spineless, meek, submissive, subordinate, less than, unworthy.........you get the point.
The problem was I could never fully beat down who I was and I felt like a failure as a woman and as a Christian.  I remember when I was fifteen years old, one of our family friends called me a feminist (the ULTIMATE insult in the circles my family traveled at the time).  I spent years trying to defend myself against that accusation; though inside I wondered why women shouldn't have equal rights to men in and out of the church.

Fast forward to today, I proclaim loudly and defiantly: I AM a feminist.  I believe firmly, unequivocally women as equal to men in every way.  But I'm jumping ahead of myself.
So much of who I am has evolved over the past two years I felt I should write out where I now stand.  Since this is my blog, the place I express myself most freely, I decided to write my updated statement of beliefs and principals to live by here.

The amazing thing about this process is that I have become my true self, the self I always was trying to beat down before.  This process has been painful and scary at times.  I have lost friends, pissed off relatives but honestly, it has been worth every single tear and frustrated scream.  I am me, I like me, I am satisfied with who I am for the first time in my life.
Does this mean that I will never change again? Absolutely not!  I pray I continue to become.  I want to embrace all that life has to offer me.

1.  I believe in God the Father, Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth: And in Jesus Christ, his only begotten Son, our Lord: Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary: Suffered under Pontius Pilate; was crucified, dead and buried: He descended into hell:
 The third day he rose again from the dead: He ascended into heaven, and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty: From thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead:
 I believe in the Holy Ghost:the communion of saints: The forgiveness of sins: The resurrection of the body: And the life everlasting.

2.I'm officially done with ultra conservative, right wing loving, militant "Christian Church". After 35 years I'm completely done. I'm done with a church that would rather condemn people who are not of their faith for "sin" and yet continually ignores the huge moral lapses in her own midst. I'm sick of homosexuals being condemned and hated, while pastors are screwing their own congregants, while women are treated like third class citizens, while the good people of the church gossip and tear down anyone they don't like in their midst. I'm done. I want to raze the current church to the ground. I will not set foot in another such church again. I'm over it and I'm over you if you are promoting that kind of hateful hypocrisy. Once the CHURCH gets the FOREST out of their own eyes, then we can start judging non-Christians for their splinters.

3.  I believe women were created in the image of God just as much as men.  I will never again feel guilty for having the body God gave me.  I refuse to accept that my body is somehow responsible for someone else's sin or temptation.  I am responsible for my own actions; others are responsible for their actions.  I will never again dress down or hide for another's convenience.

4.  I believe women are designed to be strong, effective leaders,  I will never again submit blindly to a man simply because of his position or his gender.  I do not believe having a vagina makes me one iota less capable of leading or decision making.

5. I will raise my children to understand sex and consent.  I will not hide behind ridiculous abstinence teachings to avoid having the hard conversations about responsible sexual behavior.  My boys will understand that no means no.  My boys will enter this world prepared to date in a respectful manner and they will be raised to expect the same respect from their partner.

6. I believe that art in all it's forms was created to inspire us to be more, to appreciate beauty in everything, even things that are normally viewed as ugly.  I believe art is one of God's greatest gifts to us.  I believe that it is essential in today's technology and data driven age that we teach our children to value all forms of art: written, musical, drawn, spoken, painted, portrayed on stage, the list goes on and on.

7.  I like who I am.  I really don't care if others don't like me.  Part of becoming is letting go of the things and people that hold you back.  Love me or hate me, either way I will use your input to continue on my path.  This may sound arrogant but in reality it is simply being true to who I am.

I was going to make a list of ten things because it's the thing to do but honestly these seven items are all I had to say.  I'm okay with that.  I've never been very good at conforming. ;)
I need to thank my husband.  He has been so instrumental in this journey.  He has encouraged me to continue to grow, to continue to become; even on the days when my becoming looked like me ranting or crying or simply sitting, thinking.  He is ever my cheerleader, encourager and friend.  I truly appreciate and love you, Usarian.

Saturday, March 28, 2015

The Cult of the Shoe

The sun was high over head and blazing down on the dusty man that stood alone in the great desert land.  He wiped his sweaty brow with an old blue bandanna, passed on to him by his grandfather.  Tossing the shovel aside, he grabbed a bottle of triple filtered water.  He hadn't started this project alone, in the beginning there had been many out here with him digging in the heat and dirt.  But as the weeks passed with little to nothing to show for the hours of sweat and back breaking labor they had all abandoned him.  His research grant had been revoked, the ancient land of Texas was just a myth they said.  Still he labored on, his grandfather had told him the stories, passed down to him by his grandfather, who had heard them from his grandfather, and so on.  Texas had once been a vibrant land, full of legendary heroes of old, known as cowboys. his ancestors had been among these "cowboy" peoples.   Not much was known of these heroes of old, less was known of their beliefs and customs.   Once again he wiped his brow, wet the bandanna with some of the water from the bottle and ran it over the back of his neck.  Today was the day, he was sure of it.  Today he would find proof that an ancient thriving civilization once existed where now there was nothing but dust and sand, scorched by the searing sun.    He looked over the grid he'd laid out months ago, he randomly picked a section toward the upper left corner.  He hadn't really spent much time in that quadrant.   He picked up the shovel and began the exhausting task of digging.  

The sun had worked it's way across the sky and was setting when his shovel struck something hard....another rock no doubt.  Still he tossed aside the shovel and began the painstaking process of brushing away loose dirt.  One must always be cautious,he never knew when what looked to be a worthless rock would actually be the treasured artifact that would prove his theory.  As he brushed aside the sand and dirt he began to get excited, this was no ordinary rock!  The shape was oddly oblong and smooth.  It was definitely man made!  The sun was setting but he dared not stop.  He powered up the solar generator and lights illuminated the dig site.  Another two hours passed before he was able to work the object free.  It appeared to be an ancient shoe of sorts that had petrified and turned to rock.    The details were preserved almost perfectly, he could make out the crisscross design of ancient laces.  Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he tenderly cradled the treasure.  Here was the validation he had been looking for, no more would he be the laughing stock of the archaeological community.  His tears turned to laughter and he danced alone under the moon lit sky.

Ten years passed quickly by.  No longer was he a madman digging alone in the desert.  Now he was the world's leading expert on ancient Texas.  Now others did the hard work of digging in the heat and he supervised their work and studied each and every treasure unearthed.  The shoe had led to the discovery of an entire town that had been buried under the sands of time.  Foundations of houses and businesses had been excavated, pieces of pottery, plastics, metals and bone had all been cataloged and studied.  Bits and pieces of a long lost civilizations began to come together to form a glimpse of how the ancients lived and worked.  It appeared they were nomadic, living in one town and commuting to another in some kind of rudimentary machine for work. Over-sized concrete and asphalt roads had been discovered, miles upon miles of them.  It was inconceivable to think of how these primitive ancients had built such a large infrastructure, given their limited tools and education.   Large, rusted metal stars were found scattered throughout the dig,   It seemed nearly every house in the town had at least one of these stars.  There were even concrete stars embedded in the roadwork.  These cowboys had worshiped the night sky it had been concluded.  What an amazing insight into their culture.     
 Still one piece of the puzzle nagged at the man.  That one shoe that had led to the discovery of an entire town had also led to many more shoes, all in the same area, arranged sporadically around what had been a small lake.  There were shoes of all different sizes, that had been purposefully coated in mud and left.  The mud had preserved the shoes, petrifying them; a bit of good fortune for the man and his colleagues.   The man puzzled over this cult of shoe worshipers.  Why had there been only left shoes?  Why so many different sized shoes? Was this the way they memorialized their dead?  What was the significance of the lake?  So many questions whose answers had been swallowed up by the sands of time.

Present Day
Paul limped home, mud covering his left leg to the knee. He ripped his pants and lost his shoe in the pond, again.    Mom was going to be mad, again.  She said if he lost another shoe this month he was going to have to wear his slippers to school, he hadn't told her he'd already lost one of those in the mud too.  





This story came to me one day after Paul came home for the gazillionth time covered in mud and missing his left shoe. Yes it's always just his one shoe.  Don't ask me why, I have given up trying to figure out the answer.  I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into my crazy brain.  I can't help it, my mind turns everything into a story. 

Monday, March 23, 2015

The Silent Tree

Silence, like a deep dark fog descended.
It slithered, unfaltering through every branch of the family tree;
intangible, unseen, and lethal.
Early one stormy morning, it slithered along the forest floor, until it came upon the great tree.
It  wrapped itself tightly around the trunk of family business, unnoticed in the midst of the torrential storm that blew through the forest
Slowly, intractably it began to weave it's serpentine body along every branch and twig
until the tree, once beautiful and vibrant, green and lush, the envy of the surrounding forest,
stood alone; the leaves hanging brown and limp on the branches, the bark faded and peeling,
even the sap, the lifeblood of the entire organism, had turned thick and black
Over the years the forest had receded from the once great tree, the other trees looking for healthier company.
Yet, the largest leaf on the infested, dying tree still looked around declaring
"Look how beautiful we are.  We are the tallest, healthiest, strongest tree in the forest."  Then all the other leaves would smile and wave their agreement in the wind, pretending not to notice how their dried, brown flesh no longer made a sound.
Occasionally a leaf could take no more and would fall to the ground, making a soft crashing sound as it fell to the dead forest floor.
The oldest leaf would angrily climb down the tree, reprimand the dying leaf for making a fuss, and then drag it back to it's rightful branch, using super glue and twine to hold it in place
The leaf stayed in place, though completely disconnected from the twig that once fed it.
All the other leaves refused to notice, after all one did not speak of such things
 The silence squeezed tighter still, and the unspoken  heartache, the secrets long buried, covered the tree in a sludge so thick that it would drip off the branches to the decimated forest floor
and the tree, already suffocating, could not breathe a sound.
The tree slowly petrified, turning living flesh into soulless rock.
The deafening sound of  silence had won and the leaves wept bitter tears, that none could see or hear.








Saturday, October 18, 2014

A Ho-Bath Gone Wrong

Warning: The following blog post is for the ladies; it will make you laugh and cry and probably pee your pants a little. Depends are advised past this point. To my readers of the male variety, this blog post will contain references to personal hygiene products and tender lady parts; continue reading at your own discretion.

This is the story of a mom; a miserable mom; a miserable mom, with miserable kids; a miserable mom, with miserable kids, in a hurry; a miserable mom, with miserable kids, in a hurry, in desperate need of a shower.  This is the story of "The Ho-Bath Gone Wrong".
This is the OPPOSITE of a Ho-Bath
It was a beautiful June morning in north Texas........Okay that's a lie.  It was a hot, humid. sticky, miserable morning in north Texas.  At nine am the temperature was already 99 degrees and it was climbing fast.  Normally, I am the freak that  LOVES this kind of weather but two major things were wrong with this particular day: 1) It was unusually humid.  I love heat; I revel in heat but I hate humidity.  I can't breathe, my joints ache and worse of all my hair looks like a pile of writhing snakes, it's all kinds of curly hair drama.
2) More importantly, our air conditioner was broken.  By broken, I mean it had turned my entryway into a swimming pool with large bits of ceiling plaster floating in it (our AC unit is upstairs, above said entryway).     Gallons of water had come spewing from the ceiling.  My husband (bless his heart) determined that he and Google were up to this particular repair challenge.  I love my husband; he can do magical things with a computer, he can make them stand up and dance.  He however, is not a plumber or an A/C repair type guy.  Knowing this, I called for an estimate on what the repair was going to cost, despite his well intention-ed assertions that he "would fix this".  The quote wasn't pretty, in fact it was bleak.   I decided that maybe he and Google were up to this challenge after all; mistake 1.

 So the house was a cozy 105, swampy degrees. This was day five of  no A/C in the north Texas summer (also known as Satan's Thermostat).
If I was miserable, the boys were more miserable.  If I was cranky (and I was), the boys were MORE cranky.  We had done every single day trip I could think of in the past five days; lake trips, water park trips, wild life refuge trips, ice cream trips.  The house was trashed because we were only home long enough to eat dinner, shower and sleep on the mattresses we had scattered around the living room downstairs; heat rises, you know.  Suddenly an inspiration struck, I would bring the boys to the movies! Movie theaters are cool, movie theaters are quiet,  movie theaters entertain the boys so I don't have to.
" Dear God in Heaven, Thank you for creating movie theaters. AMEN."  I sent a quick prayer of thanksgiving for this sanity saving miracle, as I feverishly looked up movie times on my phone.  I needed the first showing of any appropriate movie I could find. I didn't care if it was The Smurfs 2 on an endless loop (I was  that desperate!).  I found a movie that the boys wanted to see and it started in exactly 50 minutes.  Now 50 minutes doesn't sound like a time crunch. However,when you factor the movie theater is twenty minutes away on a good traffic day but good traffic days had ceased to exist since they decided to do construction on every single highway, byway and side road between our house and the theater, it meant we would be lucky to make it in time if we left immediately.  This presented a true crisis.  Remember, how I mentioned it was a swampy 105 degrees in our house?  It was in the best interest of the general public that I have a shower but there was no time for even a quick shower.  But if I skipped a shower I may be considered a bio-hazard and put into bio-hazard unit for detoxification......I would have to make time for a Ho-Bath, not ideal, but a functional compromise between public safety and my sanity.  I ran up stairs where the temperature is a blistering 115 degrees, or something close to it.  I rushed through my bedroom, taking time only to grab the essentials: clean clothes, deodorant, perfume, body spray.  I purposely ignore the thousand loud "MooooooM!!!!!!!!"'s I  hear.  I try to ignore the thumps and the crashes and pray "Dear God, let them survive five minutes while I get ready!  PLEASE"   I hear my bedroom door open as I am turning on the water in my bathroom sink and stripping down for my less than ideal toilette.  "DO NOT COME IN HERE!!! I"M NAKED!! GET DRESSED, put shoes on and get along for five freaking minutes!!"  Nice mom, pleasant mom, somewhat together mom, has been replaced by a naked, raving lunatic with snakey hair and smelly arm pits.  This is not the day to mess with me!  I splash water on all the important parts, keeping an eye on the bathroom door (the lock hasn't worked in ages, we really need to fix that).  Still keeping a wary eye on the bathroom door I reach for the feminine hygiene wipes I keep under the bathroom sink. " Thank you God for inventing these public shaming savers." I whisper as I rip open the package, still looking at the door.
Then I set about my task at hand, hurriedly but thoroughly cleansing the most offending areas.  The arm pits and under boob area complete with no issue I reach for a second wipe and go to work on my lady parts, thoroughly cleaning with no real thought to finesse.  Then all the sudden it hit, this terrible burning.  My hoo-ha was suddenly being burned alive by the fires of hell.  I let out a scream, that was heard all the way down in the Devil's lair.  My ears were ringing, my eyes were stinging, I stumble over to the bathtub and turn on the cold water and sit down.  It is to no avail, Satan and all his demons were still burning the living daylights out of my tender flower.   I confessed all my sins, I pleaded with God to make it stop, I promised to live a perfect life, to never swear again, to never, yell at my precious, hellion, children again, just please GOD MAKE THE BURNING STOP!!!!!!!!
I hop out of the bathtub and dry my tears with a towel, then I see it, laying on top of the first hygiene wipe package was a second, much smaller package, one that under normal circumstances I would never confuse for a ho-bath wipe.  There sitting on my sink, plain as a day, was an open alcohol swab.  I had just thoroughly scrubbed my sweet lady parts with an alcohol swab!!!!!!
I toweled off, applied all my deodorant, body spray and perfume,all the while ignoring the hell fires that persisted in my nether regions. I quickly dressed, loaded the boys into the truck and headed to the movies, the burning slowly, so slowly, fading away.  The boys enjoyed the movie and the rest of the world continued on as if nothing had happened.  But my world had changed, never again would I be able to look at a feminine hygiene cleansing wipe without feeling the echoes of the flames of hell licking at my lady parts.

Monday, May 19, 2014

A Miracle,3500 Miles, the Plague, A Book and A Dance - part 1

Oh my word friends, it has been too long. I was going to apologize and say just how crazy it has been but what's the fun in that.  I am after all a story teller and the past few months are one heck of a story.  This will take a moment or two.....or twenty; so pull up a chair, grab some sweet tea, and settle in, the journey starts:now.

April first dawned bright and early, there was a buzz of excitement all around Skiffdom, today was the day we'd been planning for almost a year.  Today we were driving back to Virginia, as a family, for the first time since we moved to Texas more than six years ago.  We'd prepared for  this trip, unlike other Skiff adventures.  At Christmas, all the boys received a personal electronic gadget to keep them occupied over the long trip; each child had brought their favorite blanket, stuffed animals, books, toys, etc, in a personal bag that they kept with them at their seat.  The back of the truck was piled high with fourteen days worth of luggage for the seven of us, and Phil the cat had a pet sitter arranged.  We all piled into the truck and headed to Brookshires (the local grocery store) to have breakfast and wait for the pharmacy to open to pick up a few prescriptions.  What fun, the boys ate pastries, I bought "clean" snacks for the long hours in the truck and hubby and I sipped our coffee.  Okay we guzzled our coffee; sipped just sounds so much more genteel but there was nothing genteel about the way we clasped our mugs and downed the caffeinated ambrosia.
Finally, an hour later, the pharmacy opened and we were on the road, the bright sky and open road spread out before us.  
We were heading back east for my sister Jennifer's wedding. Normally, if there is a family function, I just hop on a plane, fly out for 48 hours and then I'm back home. No fuss, no muss.  But Jennifer really wanted the whole family at her wedding if possible. That combined with my father's recent heart attack made it important that we all travel the 1400 miles back to the state that is for lovers. 
Ah yes, my father's heart attack, here is where the miracle of our story enters.

I remember the day like it was yesterday, Sunday December 8th all of the Dallas area, where we live, was under at least 4 inches of  solid ice.  Everyone was completely iced in, a rare sight here in the land of 100+ degree summers and mild winters.  So we all sat around, watching movies and thanking God that our electricity had not gone out like thousands of others had.  It was late afternoon when my phone rang, flashing my mother's number.  I answered happily, expecting that my mom was checking in on us because of the weather. Instead it was my sister Stephanie, calling in tears, to tell me that my father had had a massive heart attack while on a plane in Salt Lake City, where he had a layover on a business trip.  
Dad had died twice, my sister relayed; once on the plane where he was brought back by a Cardiologist and a doctor who just "happened" to be on the same flight and once in the ambulance on his way to the hospital.  Things were looking really bad.  I have never felt the amount of complete helplessness that I did at that moment.  My father, the man who had always been so strong, stronger than any ten men I knew, was laying in a hospital in Utah and I had no way to get there.  The ice that had been a mere nuisance before was now a cage, keeping me trapped, far away from where I needed to be.
He stabilized over the next few days and I was finally able to fly out early Thursday morning.  My Father was scheduled to have a stint placed that afternoon, just as an emergency hold over until they could get him stabilized and back home for open heart surgery at a later date, when he was stronger.  I sat in the waiting room with my mom and four of my brothers, when fifteen minutes later the doctor came out and asked us all to follow him back to the cath lab, where my father still laid sedated, with wires hanging everywhere, a picture of his heart beating on a monitor before us.  The doctor was grim and we all stood by while he explained that things were much more dire than anticipated and my father would have to undergo open heart surgery the next morning.   My last brother and two sisters made arrangements to fly out to Utah that night and the doctors began to prep my Dad for surgery.
The surgery started before six am the next morning. We all sat huddled in the waiting room, now all eight of us siblings and my mom were there.  We pretty much took over the whole room.  We did all we could to pass the hours by, praying, playing cards, talking, praying more.  The nurses called every hour to give us an update but it was taking much longer than predicted.  Fourteen hours later the surgeon came out, so exhausted he could barely talk.  His prognosis was not good.  He said if Dad made it through the next three days he would then have a 50% chance of making it.  The days ticked slowly by, the progress slower than the doctors wanted. It was the slowest three days in my memory.  This was the first time my brothers and sisters and I had been together sans spouses and kids since I was married fourteen years before.  The one positive thing that happened was that we all drew much closer together.  One of my favorite memories of that time is my sisters and I sitting alone in the waiting room praying and singing worship songs together.  Such a poignant, sweet moment in time.
hospital and mountains in Salt Lake City
Dad made it through those three days, but when they removed the intubation tube he was not himself at all, he couldn't speak and his personality was gone.  The doctors confirmed he'd had a stroke during the surgery.  As the days passed, one by one, we all had to fly back to our families, leaving mom with my Dad.  Two days before I was to fly back our rental car was broken in to, in the hospital parking lot.  It was late and we had done a quick run into the hospital to drop food off to the sibling staying with Dad that night.  My brother Joe, who is a Maryland State trooper, was due to fly out first thing the next morning.  Thankfully he was able to stay and help work out the details of the robbery and the insurance on the rental car covered the cost of everything stolen. God was even in this, that next day my father was still pretty sedated and he seemed to only respond to Joe when he needed to eat because they were going to put a feeding tube in if he was unable to eat
Me at the Hospital in Salt Lake City
.  Had the car not been robbed Joe would have been gone and would not have been there to get Dad to eat!  My brothers and uncle flew out at different times to be with mom, so she was alone as little as possible.  The doctors were saying that Dad would probably have to stay in Utah until at least February.  They didn't know my Dad.  Once Dad set his mind on recovery, there was no stopping him.  The Meier stubborn streak has no equal and it was put to good use in this instance.  The first week of January my father was flying back to Virginia, medication ports still in his arms.  

After that dramatic crisis it was doubly important for the whole family to be together to celebrate my sisters wedding and my Dad's miraculous recovery. 
We Skiffs were excitedly driving through state after state on our way to celebrate. That first day we drove through Texas, Louisiana, Alabama, Mississippi and stopped in Atlanta for the night.
While in Louisiana, we stopped at Duck Commander to stretch our legs for a few minutes, it was literally a mile off the highway.  The boys liked the show, especially Benny, so it was a fun little breather.  We bought a few souvenirs, saw Willy, and grabbed some pictures.  The boys were particularly impressed with the Duck Dynasty RV's.  Then we were back on the road, driving, driving, driving.  
The boys were enjoying the trip, they were all getting along, without any meltdowns.  Talk about miracles!!!
Duck Commander
Duck Dynasty RV at Duck Commander West Monroe, LA
By the time we made it to Atlanta for the night it was 1 am and we were exhausted.  I had made reservations online at one of our favorite hotel chains, The Country Inn and Suites, once we knew for sure where we would stop for the night.
My eyes were practically held open with toothpicks when I went to check in.  The night manager was as sweet as pie but she was just confounded as to why she couldn't find our room.  It seemed Travelocity had booked us a room that didn't exist.  She was very apologetic but she only had the smaller suites; we didn't REALLY need all those beds did we? I assured her we absolutely needed ALL those beds.  She resolved the issue by comping us a second smaller suite.  All was good, we were so tired, we just wanted some beds.  I put some boys in the first room and made my way to the second room to get the other boys settled.  I slid my key card into the lock, excited to be getting to bed; I opened the door to a completely unmade bed, stripped down to the mattress and the room hadn't been cleaned.  I called down to the front desk and explained the issue, the manager apologized profusely and promised us ANOTHER room.  We all crammed into the first room to wait. Another fifteen minutes and the manager was at our door with the key card to another room.  This time Hubby brought the older boys to the room, as soon as they walked in Sam began to have an asthma attack; although it was a nonsmoking room, someone had been smoking in it.  Once again we called down to the front desk and once AGAIN they gave us another room. I would like to say I found humor in this all to Skiff hotel adventure but alas I was exhausted and irritated but at least they would have a good breakfast in the morning (my boys absolute favorite part of any hotel stay is the breakfast).  The hubby and I finally settled in for a very uncomfortable nights sleep on the pull out couch in the room with the smaller boys around 2 am.  But Breakfast was going to make it all right, really it was.
Around seven am we began making our way to the breakfast room in batches. The delightful smell of coffee and waffles assailed my senses as I walked down the hallways with the younger boys.
We made our way to the breakfast line only to discover there were no clean plates, forks, or made coffee!!! They were out of everything.  I wanted to cry, no room, no bed, now no coffee!!!  After another 40 minutes they brought in clean dishes and began to refill the depleted food trays but there was still no coffee.  I was not a happy camper.  That was the worst $130.00 we'd spent on a night at a hotel in a long time.  The hubby was in a much more gracious mood than I and discouraged my impending rant to the hotel manager. Lucky for her that I have such a good guy for a husband.  By nine am we were back on the road, making our way steadily towards Virginia.  We drove through Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina and finally made it my parents in Virginia at nine o'clock that night.  1400 miles, two days of driving and the boys were still doing great! 
The next day I had to go buy my bridesmaids dress for the wedding.  This is another miracle, let me tell you.  My sister was having a casual wedding with her bridesmaids in pink. Now it seems like finding a pink bridesmaids dress would be no big deal but add to that I am plus sized and we bigger women don't usually wear pink, I had one day to find it and the malls near my parents didn't have a single plus sized store!! I was truly sweating the whole dress thing.  My mom and I looked everywhere and finally ended up at Dillards where I found a casual but not too casual dress, in pink, in my size, ON SALE, and it actually looked good on me!!! Let me tell you, I was doing a happy dance because I was thinking I would be rolling it down the aisle in jeans and a t-shirt at the rate the dress shopping was going.
The rest of my days before the wedding were spent in wedding prep, while my amazing, wonderful, terrific, cannot brag enough about him, husband took care of the boys, bringing them to all our old haunts. I was sad to miss out on the trips down memory lane but I loved being a part of my sister's wedding preparations.  I worked on decorations with the girls while my Dad was busily baking my sisters wedding cake.  Five months from being brought back to life, surgery and a stroke and my Dad was not only well enough to walk my sister down the aisle but he made her wedding cake!!!!!
Martha, Mary and I working on wedding prep
Boys at General Shephard Crump Memorial Park Glen Allen, VA
Alex at Crump Memorial Park with sheep
Paul in front of trains at Crump Memorial Park
Boys at Maymont, Richmond VA
More Maymont
Maymont April 2014




The Big Day arrived, bright and beautiful.  Jennifer made a beautiful bride and her wedding could not have been more perfect.  She had her wedding at the historic Carillon in downtown Richmond.  Friends and family came from all over to celebrate my sister's marriage and my Dad's miraculous recovery.
The Boys at Jen's Wedding

My beautiful sister Stephanie and I getting in place for the wedding
The cake my Dad made 5 months after his heart attack!!

Alex and I at the reception
The wedding was a huge success; after the reception there was a huge "after" party at my parents house.  It was so good to catch up with everyone we just didn't want it to end!! The fun lasted late into the night, with hubby and many of my family playing poker.  I however was exhausted and went to bed around 9.  Sunday we visited with family and started to pack up. Our plan had been to stay in Virginia for the remainder of our trip, doing fun day trips but in true Skiff fashion we just couldn't do a "normal" near cross country trek.  Nope, on a whim we decided we might as well go to upstate New York to visit my husband's family, we were after all a mere 600 miles away!  Stay tuned for the rest of the story!!!


The picture of my whole family: brothers. sisters, spouses, grand-kids, my mom and Dad and Jen and her new husband, Hunter 4/5/2014

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