Mother's Day

I have been a mom for 25 years.  That’s over half my life.  Damn.

Every day I wonder if I’m doing it right?  Am I being the best mom I can?  Am I teaching my children life’s important lessons, like play well with others, be nice to people, and always wear clean underwear and socks without holes?  Will my children remember the Fun Mom times and not the time I yelled for 17 minutes because someone left their bookbag on the stairs when I’ve told you 9,000 times not leave things on the stairs because someone could TRIP! and FALL! and BUST THEIR HEAD OPEN! and when you do, don’t come crying to me when you’re concussed and bleeding because I TOLD YOU 9,000 TIMES…

Every night I pray that in between the ranting and yelling, my kids were aware that they were loved and cherished.  And I go to sleep thinking, “tomorrow I’ll be more patient, more understanding, less of a yeller…”

And then I trip over someone’s bookbag.

I am quite sure that at some point during my 17-minute rants, my children were looking at me, pretending to be fully engrossed in what I was imparting to them, but really thinking “why does she keep yelling about the same thing?  I get it, I heard you, but I forgot.  Jeez, we all make mistakes!” 

Yes, that’s right, we all make mistakes.  As moms, we want the best for our children which includes not watching our children make the same mistakes we did.  We are older, wiser, we’ve been kids/teenagers/young adults and we screwed up.  Royally, in some cases.  And we remember the pain that we felt or that we caused by those mistakes. We want nothing more than to shield our kids from pain.  We suffered and we don’t want you to as well.  We beg them - learn from our mistakes, please!

But our children don’t believe that we were ever young and dumb – okay, young – and they will blithely carry on doing the same things we did, and all we can do is try to tell them, but ultimately we have to watch them stumble and fall.  And we hope that they get up, look over at us and say “wow, you were right!” 

Children start feeling grateful for their parents right about the time they have their own children.  I remember being at my parents’ house with Jessica when she was about 2.  She kept poking at the screen door, even after I told her 9,000 times not to poke it.  Finally I smacked her hand and oh my word the sobbing that commenced from that child.  She flung herself into my arms, so contrite and cried, “I sowwy momma! I sowwy!!”  Oh for the love of cheese, what’s a mom supposed to do?  As I hugged her, I looked over her shoulder at my dad, who was thoroughly enjoying the show.  He just said “yep, now you know.”  Yep, I damn sure did.  At that moment, I realized my parents had been right all along.  My dad knew I’d figure it out eventually, even if it took 20 years.  And then I realized I had 20 more years of yelling in front of me.

Even when my parents got on me, I knew that they loved me.  If they didn’t love me, they wouldn’t have cared if I made my bed, hung up my laundry or left my shoes under the table.  They wouldn’t have disciplined me and made me a better person through their lessons and lectures, which I finally appreciated once I became a parent. 

I always told my girls that I loved them, whether it was at the end of a phone call, before they went to bed, or just walking by them in the kitchen.  I might have been fed up with them earlier, but it didn’t change the fact that I loved them, always and forever.  I hope and pray that they knew it, because I ran out of time to tell Jessica and Kelli once more. 

On this Mother’s Day weekend, I say thank you to Jessica, Kelli and Madelyn.  Because of you three, I would have gone through life never knowing unconditional, irrevocable love.  I would never have experienced the joy of having a sweet-smelling fuzzy-headed infant snuggled on my chest, sleeping soundly.  I would have missed feeling so thankful for a construction paper flower with I Love You Mom written in slanting capital letters.  I would have missed watching you grow from babies to little girls into strong, beautiful young women. 

Thank you for making me a mom.  Thank you for pretending to listen to me when I yelled.  Thank you for the hugs, even when we fought.  Thank you for making me a better person.  Thank you for being great kids. Thank you for the love.

Spring Forward

On January 1, just like most of the population, I stop and take stock of my life.  I think about the past year, remembering the highs and lows and making mental notes of that which I wish to improve, discard or just plain change in the coming year.  I'm going to get healthy, lose weight, get a mammogram, be organized, start writing again, start my book, do more to educate police officers, reach out to long-lost friends, clean out my closet, learn to bake bread, and stop focusing on the negative.  Sounds doable, right? 

Like most of the population, I start my "new me" with the best intentions and tell myself that this year will be different.  This year I'll keep my promise to myself and follow through past February 1.

Like most of the population, my determination wanes about the end of January, and by February I'm back to how I was on December 31.  I'm disappointed in myself and find it hard to get back on track, probably because I'm too busy beating myself up for yet another failed attempt. 

This year, I started strong.  I made long-overdue doctor appointments.  I successfully baked delicious bread.  I bought "The Complete Idiot's Guide to Writing Well."  I traveled to Las Vegas and San Antonio for presentations.  I started researching publicists and publishing options.  I stopped using Cheez-Its as my post-dinner indulgence.  I picked up my kettlebell, and not just to vacuum under it.

I was feeling good, thinking that maybe this was the year I turned a corner.  Maybe I'd have more good days than bad this year.  After all, I had made it through Thanksgiving and Christmas with only one breakdown.  Could the light in the tunnel be getting brighter?  I hadn't heard the train whistle in a while, so is this the beginning of the end of this darkness?

And then our dog died. 

DeeDee had been sick since before the holidays, but we couldn't figure out what was wrong.  She wasn't eating, she was losing weight, and just laying around.  The vet ran tests which showed what she didn't have.  I started cooking chicken and rice for her to eat, and slowly she started improving.  But in February she started going downhill again.  I had The Talk with Maddy, preparing her for the worst-case scenario.  That went well, as you could imagine.  I always knew that when our dogs died, it would be so hard on Maddy.  She was so young when Jessica and Kelli died that she didn't really grasp the finality at that time, but now that she's older, this was going to hit her so much harder.  Plus, DeeDee was Kelli's buddy.  Kelli let her sleep in her bed, and after she died, DeeDee would scratch on Kelli's door, hoping to be let in. Maddy started letting her sleep with her, so DeeDee wouldn't be lonely.  I think Maddy needed the companionship, too.  They healed one another.

DeeDee had a stroke on a Friday night.  Thankfully, Maddy was at her dad's, and didn't have to see her, confused and stumbling.  It was heartbreaking to see her so helpless.  I finally got her settled down in the laundry room, and I slept on the couch so I could check on her during the night.  I prayed that she make it through the night, because as much as I knew she was going to die, I didn't want Maddy to be deprived of another chance to say goodbye, of one last hug, one last time to say I love you and I'm going to miss you so much. 

On Saturday morning, she and her dad met me at the vet's office, and after we all said our goodbyes, we stood around DeeDee, stroking and rubbing her head, as she went to sleep for the last time.  I told DeeDee to go find Kelli and Jessica, because they had been waiting to feed her hot dogs and ice cream again.

Not surprisingly, the darkness came slinking back on me.  I had no motivation.  My to-do list mocked me.  I couldn't even muster the energy to get angry with myself.  The cold weather and the dreary gray days weren't helping.  The worst thing was the quiet.  No more hearing DeeDee's tags jingle on her collar, or hearing her nails click across the floors.  Just like after Jess and Kelli died, and my house stopped being filled with yelling, music and laughter, the pounding of their feet running up and down stairs.

I let myself wallow for a few days, until one morning when I was getting dressed the sun came through the bathroom window and hit me square in the face.  I closed my eyes and stood there, soaking up the light and warmth.  I realized that we were getting close to  moving the clocks forward for more daylight.  It was getting lighter earlier, and the angle of the sun was changing, streaming in our windows longer, and we were seeing those gorgeous early March sunsets at dinnertime, instead of looking out at darkness while we ate.

It occurred to me that Spring might be a better time for me to embrace change, because the world is changing as well.  The trees begin to dress themselves in green buds, the days get longer, and the air starts to have that certain indescribable scent of renewal.  Why can't we make New Season resolutions instead of New Year's?  Maybe breaking our goals down in smaller increments might make them easier to attain.  Or maybe I'm just solar powered. 

Whatever the reason, I've found myself back on track lately.  I went to the doctor and I'm trying some meds that are really helping me get motivated and stay focused.  I'm taking steps to do more speaking presentations and broaden my audience.  The mammogram is scheduled.  I'm exercising daily, eating better foods and a lot less crap.  I cleaned out my pantry, organized the lockers by the back door, and started writing again.  I've missed writing, missed it so much.  It always helped me work through my emotions, even if the writing never saw the light of day. 

Like shedding a heavy winter coat, I can feel that darkness lifting, and the light taking over.  Spring is here, in my soul. 

Losing a Friend

Back in June, I met a woman named Sue Ann.  She worked for a construction company, and I met her when I went through the model home.  Craig and I had been discussing the possibility of building a house, and as I was out scouting locations, I came across this subdivision.  Sue Ann welcomed me that first day like an old friend, told me to make myself at home, and answered all my questions.  I remember telling Craig how nice she was and that she was just one of those people that you click with. 

A couple of days later I brought Craig and Maddy back to see the house and the neighborhood.  When Sue Ann met Maddy, she told her about all the kids that lived in the subdivision.  She told us that she kept popsicles and water in the refrigerator for the neighborhood kids, and that she was on a lot of parents' emergency contact lists for school pickups.  She remembered that I had mentioned Maddy's love of basketball, and told Maddy about a girl in the neighborhood who was close to her age that also played basketball.  She made a point of getting them together so Maddy could meet her and be introduced to some of the other kids.

The subdivision had a lot of the amenities we were looking for - land, mature trees, remote setting but still within the acceptable 10-15 minute commute to Target and Schnucks - but what really sold us was how Sue Ann represented that neighborhood and the company.  Sure, we'd found some other areas that fit the parameters, but we felt "at home" here.  And so we started construction.

As the house building process went along, Sue Ann was on top of every last detail, remembering things that we had mentioned months ago, keeping us on track of when it was time to pick out lights, or brick or floor.  She was always happy to take my phone call, and never made me feel like I was bothering her when I was asking about yet another detail on the house.

She also became my friend.  I introduced her to Houzz and she introduced me to Pinterest.  We talked about kids and husbands and shoes as much as we talked about lighting fixtures and wall colors. 

Before the last fundraiser this past July, I asked her if she would mind putting up a flyer in the office.  Not only did she put up a flyer, she made three floral arrangements for the auction, and she made me pineapple pins to sell.  She couldn't make the fundraiser but she called me the next day to see how it had gone, and to ask when the next event would be, because she was putting it on her calendar so she wouldn't miss it.  She also asked for and wore one of our pink bracelets, and told me that she no longer talked on her phone in the car. 

When we had the memorial blood drive in November, she put up flyers and even convinced her boss to come by and donate blood.  She was a breast cancer survivor - 10 year survivor thankyouverymuch - and couldn't donate but she was doing all she could to get others to come donate.

In December, shortly before Christmas, we stopped by to check on the progress and drop off some homemade candies and cookies.  She welcomed us with hugs and she told me she was working on a wreath for me to put at the girls' graves.  I had been talking about the grave blankets I wanted to make, and so she decided to make a wreath to go out there as well.  She said she had found some great dragonfly fabric but she wasn't happy with the pineapple fabric, so she was sorry it wouldn't be ready for Christmas, but she'd try to have it by Kelli's birthday on New Year's Day.  She also had a New Year's baby, so she always remembered Kelli's birthday.  I was so touched, but I was beginning to realize that was just her nature.  She took so much pleasure in making other people happy.

She also said that she had some news for us and I immediately said "don't tell me you're quitting?!?"  She said that yes, she was retiring but she was going to wait until our house was done in April.  We would be her last house.

She told me that she had been thinking about it for over a year, praying for guidance, because she loved her job and her "families" (as she called us and the others that had built houses with them) and had been with the company for over 15 years, and it was a hard decision, but she wanted to retire and spend more time with her grandbabies, one of whom was just born November 22.  She said that she had followed the story of Jessica and Kelli from the time of the crash, and had read about my activism and how I was taking a horrible situation and changing laws and making a difference.  She said that when she met me and heard my name, she knew who I was and that I was an inspiration to her.  She also said that the more she got to know me, the more she thought I was her sign, and she knew that it was the right time to make her decision.  I laughed and said if I was the answer to her prayers, she better keep asking, and we both laughed.  Deep down, however, I was pretty humbled that she thought so highly of me. 

She knew that this was not only a house to me, but that it was also another way to remember Jessica and Kelli.  I'm always looking for ways to incorporate little things that remind me of them.  She loved my idea of a custom stained glass transom over the entry door that would have a pineapple, dragonfly and frog (for Maddy), and was helping me find an artist that could do that. 

When our floor trusses went in after Christmas, I was out there taking pictures of the progress.  The floor trusses have the date and place they were manufactured.  As I took pictures, I realized that my floor trusses are dated 11-23-11.  I told Sue Ann about it, and she said that it gave her goosebumps, and she said that my girls were still with me.  I told her it made me laugh because it just seemed like something they would do - I couldn't just have one or two trusses with that date, oh no, every dang one of them all the way across the basement.  Go big or go home - that's our motto.

 Later, she told me that she had called the contractor to make sure he cut a section with the date for me to keep before they were all installed.  Which was just another example of how she always thought of others.

This morning our builder called me and I answered the phone with, "ok, what did I go over budget on this time?"  Instead of laughing, he said no, that's not why I'm calling.  Just the tone of his voice told me that it was bad news.

He told me that Sue Ann had suffered an anuersym on Saturday and had passed away on Sunday.  She never regained consciousness.  She was 54. 

I only knew her mere months, but I feel like I've known her longer.  She was one of those people that is always positive, always smiling, that you can always count on for a laugh and a hug.  It's just not fair that she's gone.  I'm so sad for her family and for that brand new grandson that will never know firsthand how amazing his grandma was. 

I hope Jessica and Kelli find her and they have a laugh over the trusses. 

Thank You

Two small words that are so easy to say yet so easy to overlook.

A phrase that sometimes is all you have to convey mass amounts of gratitude but just can't find anything else to say.

I say it now to those who came to the blood drive last night and helped us collect 24 units for the local Red Cross.

To everyone who supported and continue to support all we do to keep the memory of Jessica and Kelli alive with scholarships, blood drives, fundraisers, tree planting, education, advocacy, and whatever else I can do to make sure these young women are never forgotten.

To the officers who listen to me present my story in hopes of changing the way they approach responsive and pursuit driving.

To those who are working to rename a section of Interstate 64 for Jessica and Kelli.

To everyone who ever sent me a picture of Jessica and Kelli, or told me a story, a memory, a moment about them.

To those who have stood by me when I was my at my highest and at my lowest.


To those of you who take a few minutes of your day to read my ramblings.

Finally - to those who served our country, and continue to serve, and the families that have lost loved ones  who paid the ultimate price in protecting our freedom.

Thank you.  So much.

No, I Wasn't Abducted By Aliens

I last posted TWO months ago.  Where the hell did that time go? 

Well, let's see - I got a job.  After six months I came out of "retirement" to do a temp job at a law firm.  An original timeline of 4-6 weeks has turned into almost two months.  

Maddy made her school softball team.  The season ended last week, and now basketball tryouts are next week.  It never ends, I am beginning to realize.  She's loving school, loving sports, and doing really well adjusting to junior high. 

We still aren't completely finished with the legal rigamarole, but hopefully that will wrap up in the next week or two and some projects that have been on the back burner can come to a full boil.  I'm excited about getting Kelli's scholarship rolling and meeting the recipient of Jessica's scholarship.

I've got some speaking engagements lined up beginning next week, and I'm honored to have been asked to speak at Jessica's alma mater of SIUE. 

We're creeping up on four years since they were killed.  I read a quote today - "Everything will change when your desire to move on exceeds your desire to hold on." (Allen Cohen)

I just wonder if it's possible to do both. 

Another Successful Fiesta!

Yesterday, I dropped off $4,030 at the Greater St. Louis Community Foundation.  That's a nice chunk of cheddar for the scholarship funds. 

I couldn't do it without the support and generosity of everyone who donated time, money and talent.  It was a great evening, and if you didn't make it this year, try to join us next year.  We always have a blast!

Final Preparations

Yesterday, Maddy and I ran all over getting the final bits and pieces for the fundraiser on Saturday.  We got the table covers, centerpieces, picked up donations, finalized our wardrobes and swiped my debit card until it screamed "no more!!" 

In my frantic running amok, I managed to leave a bag of picture frames at the store - luckily they were holding it for me.  I tore up my house and car looking for them last night.  My house is Fundraiser Central right now - the guest room and dining room currently house the donations, five boxes of tote bags are in the foyer, my living room chair has the centerpieces, and I'm using my couch as a printer stand.  It's a mess but it's a good mess. 

I was stressing for a few days over the food, but we got it worked out.  We'll be enjoying fabulous barbecue from Bully's Smokehouse - their garlic mashed potatoes are sooooo yummy.  The Brinley family is so awesome - please check them out next time you are in Columbia, IL or Edwardsville, IL.

We have over 35 separate silent auction items, ranging from Cardinals tickets, overnight stays at the Westin St. Louis, Hilton At The Ballpark, and Moonrise Hotel, an autographed hockey stick from Al MacInnis, gorgeous handmade floral arrangements, wine baskets, dog obedience classes, handyman services, Bath and Body Works products, haircare products, Yankee candles, photo sessions, sports memorabilia and an autographed photo of Tim McGraw.

I am really excited about Maddy's contribution.  She had the idea to frame some of her her botanical photographs and use them in the auction.  The kid has an eye for this stuff, I'm not even kidding.  The photos are fantastic in their color and detail.  She takes them with my Canon point and shoot, but somehow she manages to take better pictures than I do with the same camera.  It's a gift, I guess.  She wants to be a photographer when she grows up.  I think she's got a good start.

Here's one of my favorites:

The raffle tickets have been a HUGE success!  We don't have many left so if you want a chance to win a 40" flatscreen Hitachi HD TV, leave me a comment.  Tickets are $5 each or 5 for $20. 

Tickets are still available for the event on Saturday.  Just show up at the KC Hall in Collinsville IL and in exchange for a $20 admission, you get the aforementioned bbq dinner along with drinks, dancing, and a chance to bid on those fabulous silent auction items. 

If you can't make the event but want to donate, you can send a tax-deductible donation to the Greater St. Louis Community Foundation - just indicate "Jessica and Kelli Uhl Memorial Foundation" on the memo line of your check. 
All our proceeds benefit the Jessica and Kelli Uhl Memorial Foundation, which funds a scholarship in Jessica's name at SIU Edwardsville and a scholarship in Kelli's name through the Collinsville Education Scholarship Foundation.

On a daily basis, I am overwhelmed by the support and generosity of the community.  So many individuals and businesses have supported our efforts, and we are truly grateful.