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UltraMom here, and as we all know, “Tis the season.” Just 3-4 more days til Christmas, depending on whether you count the little bit left that is today or not. It seems that the older I get the faster this season comes around again, but that is a common complaint of the age-enhanced. Of course there are aspects of the season that I enjoy: most notably getting to spend time with family members I don’t often see. I enjoy all the Christmas lights, and even put a string of white lights up myself around the railing of my little front porch to welcome me as I arrive home from work after dark. I enjoy some of the Christmas songs, and I will enjoy singing the Christmas Cantata at church. I enjoy the sugar cookies I make once a year (I actually enjoy those TOO much), and who doesn’t like getting presents? But of course, sometimes it all just seems like too much. There’s the pressure of sending cards, purchasing gifts, all the “Are you ready for Christmas?” and crowded stores and frantic, weary shoppers. There is the obligatory guilt that I have so much and so many people have so little, and the fact that I’m not doing anything about it. And the let down feeling once it is all over and the kids have gone back to their own lives and the world is ordinary and orderly once more.
This year has been especially difficult for me, as blessed as I am compared to many, many others. I had some stressful things happen at work, plus the busyness of school. UltraDad is now living some 80 miles away now, so that has been an adjustment. But the season is unrelenting and marches ahead whether I am ready or not, so I have had no choice but to get ready after a fashion. UltraDad helped me assemble my “tree” and string the lights on, and I managed to get the decorations on over a several day period and it looks very nice and festive. Gradually, the rest of the obligatory Christmas ornamentation spread to the rest of the house. The baking got done, the cards written and the packages mailed. Some, but not all of the shopping is done.
And I am ready for some company to enjoy it all with me. Hurry home, Johnny and Jim.

UltraMom

PS Congratulations Chenoa and Mike on a beautiful new baby girl: Rowan Jerry Allen. Drive safely, Pat, as you travel to meet your granddaughter.

Ha, ha, wasn’t that funny? A post on Johnny’s birthday that ended up being all about my childhood dog. Ha, ha. But of course, that was just the teaser. I pretended I couldn’t think of anything to write about Johnny, but we all know that in actuality I have a literal storehouse of amusing and embarrassing incidents about him on which to draw.

When he is “on” and in the right mood, there is no one more fun to be around, or even just to talk to on the phone. If I’m having a bad or just lonely day and he calls me, I always end up feeling better, even though he usually spends the bulk of the conversation either talking nonsense or making fun of me. I guess that’s because I know that under that superior, “you are dumb as a rock” exterior, I know he really loves me and is proud of me. One time we were having a conversation on “women and women’s rights”, a topic he knows can push my buttons. He was blathering on about a woman’s place and how it says in the Bible that women aren’t as smart as men, etc., etc. I said “It doesn’t say all that in MY Bible.” “Well, it’s in mine,” he said smugly. “I wrote it in.” Okay, perhaps just a bit blasphemous, but funny.
This is one thing I really like about Johnny and try to think about in my own life: Once I asked him if he missed someone or some place…can’t quite remember what it was. He said something to the effect that he didn’t miss things when he wasn’t around them. I know he didn’t say it this way, but my translation: He just was where he was, living in that moment of time. Sometimes easier said than done, but I’m trying to do that more.
The kid was very popular tonight. I had to wait til he finished talking to Dad, Heather and Jim before I could get my turn on the phone. And, yes, talking to him made me smile.
Happy Birthday, Johnny. Hurry home for Christmas.

Love you,
UltraMom

Go Johnny, it’s your birthday! Yes, TODAY, not yesterday, not tomorrow, not a week ago last Tuesday. Today…… yep your birthday….hope it’s a good one….um, let’s see what can I say? Good ol’ December 12th…Ah, I’ve got it! Do you know that you share a birthday with a very famous “person?” That’s right, December 12th was also Smokey’s birthday!
Smokey was a very important personage in my life for a space of 10 years or so. Just a fat, little brown dog, which makes me wonder now why we gave him a name more descriptive of a smoke-gray cat, but no matter. He was the dog we always wanted growing up, and I was in high school when we finally got him. My mother always said when we were younger that “If we get a dog, I will be the one to clean up after it.” And I’m happy to say, when she finally relented to our pet-less pleas, she kept her promise.
She was adamant about the breed. Purebreds were too high strung. Later she told us she arbitrarily named “Chihuhua-terrior” because she thought it would be a hard mix to find. Panther found puppies listed in the paper the very next day.
Smokey established his territory and personality early in life. His bed was a laundry basket with a red cushion inside. We called it his “little red beddy.” Though we kids were the ones who worshipped at his 13 black and 3 pink toenails, he, in turn lavished his adoration on our parents. Daddy was the authority figure who could make Smokey skittering into the aforementioned red beddy at the slightest note of displeasure. Mommy was different; he would follow her around, making whiny little whimpers until she finally gave in and sat down to make a lap for him to sit on. Us kids were okay for going on walks or playing. He loved to grab onto a plastic jump rope and would hang on for dear life while we whirled him around in the air, dangling like a chubby little sausage on a string. At us he could be grouchy, growling and occasionally biting. Still we loved him.

And so, a very successful birthday post, don’t you think? So happy birthday Smok….er I mean Johnny. And many, many more.

UltraMom, the pet lover

Go, Jimbo, it’s your birthday. Okay, actually YESTERDAY, Dec 8th was the actual birthday, but “Go, Jimbo, yesterday was your birthday,” just doesn’t have the same pizzaz, so just pretend I wrote this yesterday, okay?
I always feel a little grumpy and wistful when I don’t get to be with this little guy on his special day, which these days is more often than not. But I hear he had a very nice celebration in Howe with his extended family of uncles and aunts, with a scrumptious dinner and birthday cake. I don’t know if it’s due to his extraordinary parents or to some sort of other-worldly cosmic forces, but this kid has grown up to be responsible, resourceful, intelligent, caring, handsome, and a heck of a lot of fun to be around. I actually suspect that the extraordinary man Jim has grown up to be has less to do with his very ordinary parents and more to do with his own personal moral compass, work ethic and growing perception of the world and his place in it. And by now Jim, if he ever reads this, is scratching his head at this esoteric analysis. After all, he reminds me when asked to critique my poetry, he is a more literal, ‘Casey at the Bat’ kind of guy. And this kind honesty and simplicity is another of his virtues. Anyway, it is hard to believe my baby is now 24. At THAT age, I was already the mother of two, knee deep in diapers, baby food and baby talk. And while I am greatly anticipating grandchildren, and enjoyed my own children very much through all of their phases, I would not want to go back to that time. At least most of the time I wouldn’t.
While I’m reminiscing, let’s go back to a more recent past, say a year ago. Heather and I had just attended a very important wedding and were having the time of our lives in Japan. UltraBob informs me that after a large, whirlwind dose of UltraMom and Heather, Japan will never be the same! I hope it’s not too different, because I enjoyed it very much. Of course one thing will be very different next time I visit: UltraBob and UltraGirl will be parents, and I a Grandmother, which seems so strange and wonderful.
Getting closer to the present, let’s go back only a day in time, and you will have UltraMom and Pat’s trip to Ruby Valley. UltraDad is enjoying living in remote, beautiful Ruby Valley and enjoying his new job with the state highway department. Winter being what winter is, a lot of his duties in this season will involve plowing snow. This he has started doing, though still being a rookie, he is required to have a more experience worker on board as he learns. He even garnered some overtime Friday and Saturday, which meant he could not come to Carlin for the weekend. And so, armed with groceries, clean clothes and other necessities, UltraMom, Pat, Murphy and Rowdy drove up to his place. We anticipated unloading, putting away and heading back home, but happily, UltraDad was there, having gotten off work only an hour earlier. He was very happy to have more supplies, as well as to see us, and we stayed for 3-4 hours playing cards and just visiting. When we left, I had a giant bag of dirty clothes to keep me busy, but of course laundry, as Jim well knows, is one of my favorite ways to occupy my time!
Today I went to church in Carlin for the first time in a long time, and sang in the choir. I even got to practice for the Christmas Cantata which we will be performing during the service on the morning of Dec 23rd. And now I am writing a post to put off writing a final essay for my political science class, which is due at midnight tonight.
I wish some of Jimbo’s work ethic, intelligence and resourcefulness would rub off on me.

UltraMom, Procrastinator of the year

Okay, its time to stop feeling sorry for myself and pull myself up by the old bootstraps. That’s one of those old sayings; you know the kind that you’re not all that sure what it means, except that you’re pretty sure its wise and should apply to your current life situation. Anyway, I think it means I should just get over it and get on with it, or as Johnny would say, “Quit whining and start shining.”
To that end, I wrote an awesome song (tune only) for my Music Class. Next week we will write the harmony and that will be our Final. My spirit will be crushed if my teacher doesn’t like it, but I can’t imagine THAT happening.
I talked to UltraDad tonight, and he plowed snow half of the night last night. He said he plows with someone else for the present; I’m not sure if that means they are both in the same snowplow, or if there are two snowplows working together, but I’m sure that soon he will be a snowplowing expert, making the roads safer for wintertime drivers.
My poodles made sure I got out of the house today. They whine and look pointedly at their leashes and make me feel I would be a terrible person and a terribly irresponsible pet owner if I refused to take them for a “walk” (actually, in Rowdy’s case, more like a lunging gallop.) Once at the Park, I usually turn them loose in the semi-confines of a sports field and let them run. In the end, it always turns into some sort of running-tackling-wrestling game, which makes me smile for several reasons. First, because they are so funny, and secondly because I am calculating all the energy they are expending. This means they will be ready for an afternoon nap, and I will feel less guilty about leaving them for 5 hours while I go to work.
At work, one of my inmate workers told me how much he and several others appreciate the efforts I make on their behalf, ie working unusual hours on occasion, trying to bring in new store items for a little variety and treating them like human beings. A little appreciation always makes me feel better. You too, I’ll bet. Another thing: we got in some new frozen egg rolls, which are handed out in tandem with a paper wrapper for microwave heating. The guys started just handing out the paper wrapper at first. As the ‘customer stared at it quizzically they would explain that this WAS the egg roll, and it would ‘blow up’ (or expand) when heated in the microwave for ten minutes. Then after a good laugh, they would hand out the real thing. Their enjoyment was contagious.
Tomorrow I will make a trek up to Ruby Valley to bring in supplies for the intrepid snowplow operator. I will work on my Political Science essay and study for next week’s test. Maybe I will even swamp out the house, drag in boxes of Christmas decorations and embark on the annual cookie making marathon.
Maybe…but we all know better. After all, we are talking about UltraMom, the procrastinator extraordinaire.

Wishing you some laughter and appreciation of your own,
UltraMom