Let it be Chistmas Everywhere..

Coffee is hot, big lazyboy chair is comfy, Christmas book is open- half read,  kids are all sleeping in, candles are lit, holiday cookies are on the counter, music plays Christmas songs, yes its Christmas Eve.

And, for the first time in 33 years, I am not "home" for Christmas.

Four months ago, my husband and I moved our family to Dickinson, North Dakota. And, we decided that we will enjoy a quiet Christmas at our home here in our new town.

I will be honest with you, it feels weird. I have sat with myself all week, thinking of this decision.

And, my brain keeps playing tricks with me, thinking of all the "things" I have forgotten to do for Christmas.  Because, truth is- I never would have had the time (or made the time) back home to sit and type a heartfelt message, much less to sit and read a Christmas book, further more-to dig deep and find the Christmas inside of me.

See, Christmas back home, well...its busy. Or, lets be honest, I made it busy.

Numerous parties, Christmas concerts, family get togethers, and  humbly say, by the time I dolled myself up, and made the cookie tray, and bowl of noodle salad, I would collapse in the van, tired and usually crabby. (somehow the holidays always brought that out for me). So, as we drove to our party destination, I would unconsciously crab about nothing important, and as the vehicle would come to a stop, I would plant one of those fake smiles on my face.

My kids, would look at me all confusingly, I mean I get it, Honestly?! How can someone go from hollering overwhelming accusations to hugging, smiling, welcoming Christmas love- in a bout 2.2 seconds?

That's all I can say about that is, well, it takes talent.

And dear children- if you are reading this, I am truly sorry. I hope you know, all those years, it was never you, not running quick enough to the van, or the salad flopping, the shirt that didn't fit right but your mom- not knowing her boundaries with her voice. I do, love you all to the moon and back.

And, I am sorry, for not teaching you the true meaning of Christmas. You see, Christmas is about LOVE. And, you are the people GOD gave me, to LOVE unconditionally.

So, this year- well I told myself, that whatever I do for Christmas, needs to be with LOVE.

The extra hours at work, the numerous trips to Walmart, the few favorite cookies the family and I made, the wrapping of the presents, I had to consciously think "LOVE".

And, when I did that, well Christmas was, everywhere.

The yummy smelling lotion I got from my boss, the Merry Christmas's heard back from the Walmart stranger, the tape that the neighbor had for me to borrow to wrap presents, the cookies I got to share with friends, Its all LOVE. 


So, know matter if you are alone in a new town, or surrounded by all your extended families- feel the LOVE all around you.

For, all we truly all need is LOVE, and then everyday could be Christmas...

Wishing you all a peaceful day, wherever you are.
Let it be, Christmas!

xxoo

Michelle, the girl who is leaning to run with dresses on..


And, lastly... A big humble thankyou, to all of you. The love, the support, the feeling I get from your likes and comments, I am truly grateful! Heres to a big open hearted peaceful Christmas to all of you!

Love yourself and your Grandmas!

One of my first memories of my Grandma "P" (its what I called her)  is watching her with my light blue eyes wheel around the kitchen in a big silver and black wheelchair, stirring the corn  on the stove, slicing the bread, and pouring the homemade applesauce with one hand, after church right before family Sunday dinner.
You see my Grandma suffered a severe stroke when she was in her 50's and it left her in a wheelchair, only having full strength on one side.
Back to the Sunday dinner day, I remember just staring at her in the opening of the kitchen next to the pantry door (that stored many different cans of delicious pickles) amazed.   I was one f the grandkids that didn't live in the area. We drove a couple hours up north around once a month to see family, attend church, and visit friends.
So, until I was twelve and we made the move, way up north....that's the memory that sticks. 
And, when I had settled into a new town, well my cousin and I used to spent weekends making memories at that home, in that kitchen- helping Grandma bake, clean, iron( I got fired from that job real fast)  and just simply be, Grandmas hands.

The memories, where do I start?

Grandmas house well, she truly didn't care when we went to bed. So, us girls, well we would stay up late, watching movies and giggling on the green pullout couch.

And just as our eyes would close, we would hear her, wheeling into the kitchen making herself some coffee, and reading the paper with one hand, (using that one good hand quickly to punch out the inside of the paper and then to grab a hold of the end) Looking back now,

how did she do it?! I can't even read a paper and drink a cup of coffee with 2 hands without making a sloshy mess.

Okay moving on,

So, we would get up, and eat some breakfast mostly her own recipe of nisua, (a homemade finnish bread). Sometimes we would eat the whole loaf, toasting the bread to perfection and basting it with butter.

About butter Grandma always said, "bake with love and extra butter"...

Grandma also taught me how to make cookies, chocolate chip and peanut butter. And when the first batch came out of the oven looking like soup, she quietly reassured me that almost every cookie needs flour.

Then there were the stories of her intuition. Grandma well she had it. She knew when her lip was itchy Grandpa was on the way home from a fishing trip, and sure enough  Grandpa would be showing up in the doorway, soon later.

She knew when you were telling a lie, when you had a crush on a boy, when you had something on your mind, and as a teenager I thought ....part of Grandma was a, well, witch.

If it was our visits, our out to eats, our list of jobs for a weekend cleaning, either way- we knew it would never be dull. And the weekends, years flew by, from then on.

Then I got my license, and the weekends stopped. Before I knew it I was married, had babies, attending nursing school, life moved forward.

Grandpa died in 2001 and soon later Grandma ended up in  a nursing home.

They say  she suffered numerous small strokes in the years that followed. Before I knew it, Grandma wasn't talking much at all. She wasn't giving advice or telling me her intuition.

And, to be honest with you, it hurt to go visit her. One time I remember giving her the lecture at being one of the strongest women I knew, and she had such fighting sisu (a Finish word definition: courage, guts, strength) and, what was happening to her?! 

And, then another time putting my head in her lap, and just crying like a baby. Crying for what was, and had been, and what the reality was, then.

It felt like a blink of an eye later,  it was the winter of 2014, and Grandma was, dying.

I was a nurse, I had taken a healing touch class, and there wasn't no other place I wanted to be, was by her side, as the dying process started.

And she (like a Grandma) gave me all what I needed. She let me work on her with my healing touch and essential oils. She who talked so rarely spoke the words so loud and clearly, "I love you" when I needed it. One day I came into her room to her saying, "where have you been?"

One  night my cousin and I (the same one that years ago shared the green pullout couch together) spent the night laying next to her in the single hospital bed, reminiscing about all the memories.


After the clock ticked twelve on the red full moon night in April, right before Easter,Grandma went on to everlasting life.

And, it changed me. 

 Looking back now, I see, I had gotten so good at being with family, (Grandmas dying process, was a couple months) that I had forgotten about me.

I was so worried, about how my dad was doing, (now an orphan after losing both parents) my aunts, uncles, cousins, I knew they would all be struggling, grieving, and I thought I could help!

You see, I am blessed with intuition, I have those lovely essential oils, and hands that could help aide.

But meanwhile back home, my people, my kids, well they were needing a mom.


All 3 of my kids were going through a hard time, and there mom, me, I was absent. Don't get me wrong, I was home some, just lost in my thoughts, in my past, in grief.

Let me stop here and say this. There is no blame, nor anger looking back at this time.  I chose, to spend my time with my Grandma and family.  I know for me it was right at that time. I also know I also willingly focused on the grief of my cousins, uncles, aunts, fathers, siblings-not because they asked me to, but because I chose to.  

Let me also say this. I know my kids need to learn lessons on there own. One of my biggest lessons in life as a momma is not to be a "helicopter" mom. You know the mom that swoops in and helps take all the bad away. Not  truly having your kids own there own actions. Yes that's me, and I'm working daily on a happy medium..But, that my friends- well is another blog post. 

You see its always been easier for me to focus on other people and there sadness. I mean, who wants to look in the mirror and dig deep?

So, I spent a couple days, just quiet, alone in my thoughts.

And, as I juggled being a mom, being present, and a funeral, time moved on.

Family went home, people went back to work, and life happened.

But, for me well, life stopped.

I tried explaining to a few people how I felt changed, how I felt different. Where my thoughts were, what I was doing, and well...the words didn't come out right, looking back they weren't spoken with love.

And, I found myself feeling empty.

Empty to the point of not caring at all about life. I laid in bed, fetal position. I ate, icecream by the tubs. I just didn't give a damn about anything. Bring it on world, life or death. I didn't care. You see after 33 years and watching my Grandma die I finally could say, I wasn't afraid at all. 

So after spending a few days in bed, stuck, with smelly hair and pajamas stuck crusted on......I pondered...Who am I?! What is my purpose?! Who cares?!


I finally, reached out, to a soul friend for help, it was time for me to care about me.

You see, I always thought putting me first was selfish.  My mantra was what could I do to be a better, mom, sister, friend, wife, daughter, etc?

That same soul friend I reached out to would always tell me," first for yourself and then for others, Michelle".  "Then its win, win".  I would quietly yeh, yeh, her.

But, at this time, Grandma's death, I finally starting truly believing this. 

First, I am me. I have no super powers. So, I knew that  life will go on and be in my extended  family. I couldn't control or change any of what is.

I also know I needed to take the steps, to make it great for me.

And, that's by, making many changes.  Some, I will write about in future posts. 
Some, I don't even know yet.

But, what I do know, is that Grandma of mine, well she gave me her sisu, and with that I am finding the girl who loved to run with dresses on....

Till next time friends,

Love yourself, and your Grandmas! 

xxoo
Michelle

            Xoxoxo RIP Grandma P.

The talk on tonsils...

 I brought my brothers tonsils to school in 3rd grade, and pretended they were mine.

My only brother was sick, tonsillitis, and had to have surgery to have them removed, and I remember everything. 

Him going to the hospital, and coming home with a glass  jar of some whitish, moldish, looking molecules in it. The couch being his new home, the tv being his favorite shows, the red popsicles and cookies and cream icecream being his meals.

And, I was jealous. The cards, balloons, notes, would come for him, and I wished/prayed for my tonsils to get that tonsillitis thing, so I could have some fame.  I could take a little pain. My body didn't care. How cool, to be able to have mom and dad all to yourself, family and friends sending you loving thoughts, and DONT forget the icecream!

So, I tried, getting a little of that fame, and woke up early one morning, and stole the glass, fungus looking bottle and brought it to school.  I think at that point in time, I was thinking....of the neighbor girl who broke her arm, and everyone signed her cast?! I wonder if my friends, could sign my brothers tonsil jar. And, I

could pretend....the moldy white looking things, were mine...

I had it all figured out, I would talk like I had laryngitis, and over the weekend ta da, I had my tonsils removed! 

And, as I was holding the tonsil jar and whispering my story (laryngitis remember) 

I got, caught.

There was a  teacher (Mrs. Zanon?)  that took  me aside and informed me, about white lies.  I remember my face getting red, and stuttering out an apology.

I wish I could say, I was the sister that stood beside his bed, and helped nurse his healing with a big glass full of kool-aid with a bright straw in it.

But, that isn't me.

I wanted attention, darn it.

I know I was a kid. I know I've grown (FYI my tonsils are still back there in that mouth I call mine), but the point of me writing this, saying this story, is this.....

I have a big family, I am blessed with many that love me. Along with a family life has brought me friends, in which I truly am grateful for.

And, I get to work with people and take care of them daily as a nurse. I've taken care of brand new hours old babies, and end of life with there last few breaths elders. 

One thing I have seen, is we all want - a little more love and attention, darnit.

The dying man to tell his last stories, the baby crying- to be held, touched, loved.  The quiet middle aged women shopping at the local grocery store,  the homeless man on the street, or the  3rd grader who brings a jar of tonsils to school.

So, let's love all our neighbors, people. Say hi, give a hand, look at a jar of moldy looking molecules for that grade student. 

Let's use these mouths, pharynxs, teeth, larynxs, tonsils, to give attention, to spread a little more love.....

Xxoo

Michelle

The girl who is learning to run with dresses on.

ps. I love you brother Dave, where is that moldy looking jar anyway?!:)

Taking the Cami off...

Hello friends, Long time no words! Let me explain...

When I get dressed in the morning, I put many layers on. You see, I start with the undergarments , then the camisole ( you know the tummy tucking ones) then sometimes the short sleeve, and finally the long sweater that covers. Before walking out the door, I finish it off with a slimming jacket, with some kind of scarf and hat accessory, and va la, Michelles ready. 
And, sometimes, while trying to bend down with the too tight jeans and camisole creeping up my back I feel like a stuffed animal, with the cotton starting to come out.

Summer, is hard. Because, lets be honest, layers are warm! So, at times I go without the camisole, or live without the sweater, and I feel....naked..

I will never forget my dear big sister years ago, before jumping in the hot finish sauna- threatened to cover my body in big hearts with a bright red sharpie. "Love your body" was her mission for me. At that point in my life, I was post baby x3, post abdominal surgeries, and my belly looked like some kind of connect the dots Dora the Explorer map, from all the surgical scars and stretch mark trauma.

I hear you, I get it, our body is our temple, love and thank it for serving you- I am trying, daily.

And, still today- I need to remind myself (sometimes faking it to make it)  that my body is for me. That I can wear one less layer, that I can be seen....

So, I took the November month off of writing. Funny, I wrote, the check out to Walmart, a few pages in my journal, but I took the month off of visible writing, on this blog.

I spent a long weekend back home in the northern part of Michigan back in October and I heard from a few local natives that they have read my blog. Then, I found a computer guy (thanks Zack) to help me update this blog thing.  And, finally I came back to quiet North Dakota and heard of a few that had passed by  my blog- so I quit writing.

Don't get me wrong, I write for me, and I write for you.  I write because it makes me shi$ my pants and smile at the same time.

 But, I promised myself when I wrote, it would be real. Honest, my life, my truth, my words- for me first, and then for anyone who feels called to read.

So, I spent the month of November trying to decide how visible I wanted to be. Because, you see writing is not for me when I need to sensor myself.

And, the last posts, well they have been real, they have been me, my life- wide open.

Then, I spent some time with myself wondering how people felt. Do they think I am a drama queen?  Am I being too emotional? They must think I am fat!?  Do they think I want attention?  They probably think I am too sensitive.....My mind, my ego- well it just had a party with all these questions and thoughts.

So, today at this moment I decided I am all of these. I am a queen, I love being treated well. I love attention. I love talking to people. I am emotional, I have always been known to "wear my heart on my sleeve", and finally today I am saying, its one of my best qualities. I am a big girl.  And, yes, I am sensitive- I feel, lots.

I have spent my whole life, trying to change who I have always been. The layers, are coming off. I chose me, I chose visible.

Till next time dear friends, Take the cami off!

Sending Love Always, Michelle- the girl who is learning to run with dresses on.