The Competitive Spirit

Competition: the act of competing; rivalry for supremacy, a prize.


I have just attempted to settle a Monopoly war between the girls. The yelling and crying could be heard throughout the house and most likely throughout the neighborhood!

The competitive spirit runs strong in our children and often is the cause of arguments and fights. I don't think any of our kids are afraid to take on a fight nor are they willing to back down once they are in the midst one.

I think they get this from their father who grew up in a very competitive family. If his family were to have a philosophy it would be, "if you are going to play, then play to win." It doesn't matter whether it is a card game, board game or general topics for discussion. I think they often take this philosophy to the extreme. In fact, when my husband was a young teen he even wrote to Milton Bradley for clarification on a Monopoly ruling that was the source of an argument he was having with his older sister. Of course, he was in the right and couldn't wait to point this out to her.

I, on the other hand, grew up in a family that had a vastly different philosophy. I would say it was more along the lines of, "You better play to have fun, and if it isn't fun for one then it isn't fun for anyone." I, myself, am non-confrontational and not very competitive. With one exception.... when I am playing against my husband.

My husband claims I turn everything with him into a competition. I don't understand this about myself. Why does it bother me to lose to the one I love? Why do I do react this way only with him? I don't have any answers.

So I have to admit the competitive spirit within our children must come from both of us, their parents.

But I think it is my job to help them strike a balance between the competitive drive to win and the desire to play for fun making sure everyone is having a good time.

After all, if it is just a game, shouldn't it be Fun?

26 years

Celebrating 26 years of marriage!

Sometimes it feels like yesterday and at other times I am very aware of each and every moment as if time has passed in slow motion.

We are blessed by 8 wonderful children, loving families, many good friends and so many good memories.

I am anxious to see what the next 26 years have in store for us!

Letting Go

I am feeling sad today and I just need someplace to share my feelings.





Sundays seem to be the most difficult day of the week for me.
Being at Mass in a strange church, not knowing anyone, is such stark contrast from where I was before I came here.
I keep telling myself it takes time. But in the meanwhile it just hurts.
I think about getting involved, volunteering, or something. But I'm not sure it would help.
I guess I am simply having trouble letting go.
I look forward to Mondays and all the other days of the weeks, when I don't wake up with the reminder of all that I left behind.
Tomorrow will be better.

Gender Roles

I grew up the second of seven siblings. There was always work to be done at our house. And my recollection is that we all pitched in to get things done. Saturday mornings the family was up early and we were presented with the list of chores to be done before we could play. There was no sleeping in for any of us.

Work inside or work outside, the choice was mine, but everyone was to work. With seven of us there was always someone who opted for the inside work. My older sister opted for the controlled environment of the inside because she liked the familiar, the certainty of the routine of folding laundry, ironing, cooking, and cleaning windows. I always went for the outside work; mowing, trimming, pulling weeds, cleaning the bar-b-que grill, changing the oil in the car, pouring concrete for the new deck, cleaning out the gutters, whatever the project was for the weekend. It didn't matter so much to me what the job was as long as I could be outside, doing something different each weekend, and working along side my dad.

I loved working with dad. I always felt confident with dad, like I could do anything I put my mind to. I felt determined and tenacious. It was never an issue of whether it was a man's job or a woman's work with dad. It was simply about finding a way to get it done. In the winter the weather took us inside more often than I would have liked. The household tasks were shared by everyone. I watched my dad fold laundry, vacuum, cook and clean right along with the rest of us. He makes the best onion parmesan bread! There were little if any specific gender roles defined between my parents. Us kids, sons and daughters alike, were taught to cook and mow, we were taught to hammer and sew. And I assumed this was how everyone else was raised.

I am trying to raise my children the same way. My daughters are taught how to change their own tires and my sons are taught to sew on a button. They all know how to cook, although some are better than others. Taking out the trash is everyone's responsibilty, and not reserved for just the guys, and same with the yard work. And they all know how to do their own laundry.

For the four months that my husband and I lived in separate states he did his own laundry. He is very competent. He even went to a laundry-mat to do this. And when we bought our new home, he purchased a wonderful new set of energy efficient washer and dryer to go in the new laundry room. When we all moved and joined him, he taught us how the new appliances worked. I was excited he would be sharing in the household chores with the rest of us. Or so I thought.

It is more evident to me now that although I grew up in a home with very blurred gender roles, my husband didn't. Not only would his father not do his own laundry, his mother would never allow her husband to do the laundry. And it would seem that the way we are raised, the nurture part of our person is very difficult to change.

So I had better stop here and go put my husbands clothes in the dryer.

Celebrating Birthdays

In the past ten days we have had two family birthdays to celebrate. We have always celebrated birthdays with just us, just family. On a few occasions perhaps friends or our parish priest would join us, or once in a while extended family were in town, but for the most part only our immediate family made the guest list.

Now we are in Oregon. I never thought much about how things would be different in terms of birthday celebrations. After all, we never invited a lot of people. However this past month brought two Birthdays, and two very different celebrations.

I imagine most people think of a family of seven as a large family, but to us it feels small. With Lindsey away, we only numbered six. Six of us gathered around a homemade cake to sing happy birthday and watch Alex blow out all 15 candles. As much as we tried to be enthusiastic and sing with our best voices, it seemed to lack something more than the correct pitch or tone.



Eight days later we gathered around a cake and prepared to sing and watch Laura blow out her nine candles. It took several attempts, but she accomplished her task and is waiting to see if her wish comes true.




Same kitchen, same type of cake, similar candles, yet vastly different celebrations. This time we numbered ten! Lindsey was back and in addition Brad, Aimee and Mike flew in from Nebraska. I have always been surrounded by family. And as chaotic as life can be in a large household, it is a wonderful way to celebrate.

We all went to 11:00 Mass on Sunday and nearly filled the pew. Having so many of us there together felt familiar, it felt more like home, yet it also left me with an emptiness. An empty feeling from knowing our family time wasn't complete without Melissa and Justin. An emptiness knowing that this was only temporary and in a few days we would be back to a family of 7.

I don't know how to adjust to this new life. I don't suppose there is anyway to fill the hole that comes from being separated from my children. And even if I could fill the hole, or fill the emptiness I feel, I don't think I would. The emptiness, the sadness, the loss I feel also makes me incredibly aware of how much I love them. It makes me appreciate all the more how they have grown to be such wonderful young adults and how proud I am to call them my children.

I suppose this is one of those situations where people would tell me, "give it time, it will get better" and I suppose that is true. In time we will adjust to our smaller family size and we will need to continue to adjust as more children leave and go to live their own lives, But I hope that I always feel just enough emptiness to know how full and rich my life is because of family.

Getting Creative for a cause

In between the moments of chaos and moments of boredom I have been trying to get the creative juices flowing again. Whatever it is that flows within me to bring out my creative side seems a bit dry or stagnant lately. I have been called on for the third time now to create a quilt for a friend who has cancer. ( I think I mentioned this in an earlier blog, or maybe I didn't, but since this blog is just for me I guess it doesn't matter. )
The only perameters and suggestions were something red and hearts might be good.

The first quilt I designed and helped sew was for Jody. After all her hair fell out she was sharing with a number of us how odd it felt to have her head stick to the back of the vinyl recliner in the Chemo room where she was spending so much of her time. None of us would have thought about this before. Why would we? Because of Jody's openness with us and her willingness to share her experience of cancer treatment, Barb and I began a quilt for her, Rosebuds for Recovery. As more friends heard of our project we had more offers to help with the handstitching, even those who had never sewed before were taught enough to put in a few stitches. In the end it was not a perfectly handmade quilt, but it was a quilt handmade with love in every sense of the word. Jody's quilt has since been shared with other women who have had need for it during Chomo treatments.

A few years after we made Rosebuds for Recovery we found out Ron had cancer. It was obvious to all of us that at nearly 6 foot 5 inches that Ron would need his own quilt and it would need to reflect his wonderful personality and strong nature. This time all of us, including Jody, were involved in the assembly and quilting of Ron's quilt. And I had more help in the design process as well. It was a beautiful quilt filled with vibrant colors that spaned the spectrum of the rainbow.



Ron lost his battle with cancer not too many months after we finished his quilt. My feelings were mixed at seeing it draped over his coffin at the funeral. A quilt is a symbol for warmth and comfort and seeing it over a cold, hard coffin was difficult to wrap my mind around. Yet in some way it felt so appropriate. It was as if each small piece of fabric blended together making one splendid quilt was a symbol for how we all came together because of Ron's friendship. What better image to portray what we all felt in the church at his funeral than the Quilt of Many Colors? All our lives had been touched by Ron, and we were all there collectively to celebrate his life and mourn our loss.

Part of the awesome spirit of the former quilts was the relationships that were deepened through the quilt-making process. Much of that is lost this time since I am now in Oregon and everyone else is back in Nebraska. But, I need to give my head, my heart, and my creativity to this quilt for Julie. I want her to have her own quilt so that Jody's can be passed on to someone else. I want her to know that we care as much for her as we do for Jody and Ron. I know she will recognize many of the same fabrics since she has helped us in the past, and I hope this holds special meaning for her. Time is of utmost importance and I hope in the future Julie is around to share this quilt with others like Jody.