Desperately Doodling Debbie

Something strange happened to me today. It was a weirdness that used to be normal for me, way way back in the B.C. years. Yes, Before Children I tended to be more on the normally weird side of life, rather than the weirdly normal side. In other words, for those of you who do not know what manner of blabberspeak this is, I am talking about procrastination. I used to not do it. At all. I would make myself a schedule and plenty of lists, and then starting with the big dreadful chores I'd work my way down to the happy times with books and paper and pens. This started sometime around first grade when I learned to clean my room and read. And thus my normal weirdness continued all the way through college and the first six years of marriage. It never occurred to me to follow the trend of most of those around me to put off whatever I didn't want to do in order to do the things I enjoyed. I also never put off the things that were difficult to start, but enjoyable once I actually began (writing would be in that category.) No, I just made my list and followed it. Once in awhile I would veer off schedule out of the goodness of my heart to do something my husband wanted to do, but generally I made him wait until I at least had the really unsavory tasks behind me (like laundry, cleaning and cooking).

Then I became a mother and all my perfect scheduling went out the back door with all those diapers. Being late and procrastinating became my new weird normal. And as the years passed with more and more activities added into the family regimen, that weirdness became just plain normal. I still made schedules, mind you, for life is not possible in my head without them, but I did not follow them perfectly very often, a cause for no small amount of frustration in my soul. But living in a family and living by a strict regimen just does not happen on a regular basis. That's why I was shocked with myself when I sat down this afternoon to write the monthly doodle-blog two weekends before the end of the month! What strange alignment of the planets has brought about this crinkle in the time/space continuum currently hovering over my house? It may be the other half of my personality--guilt--rearing its judgmental head to push me to write earlier this month, so maybe I would find time to write a second entry in April to make up for missing February all together and thus put the discombobulated writing schedule back on track. Or maybe the old me is back and I have come out of my 27 year procrastinatory slump!

Whatever it is, I've already written three paragraphs about next to nothing, so that's an improvement over some months. And as you may have noticed, I once again have nothing astounding to say. But the fact that I'm not saying much a whole two weeks earlier than my weird norm actually does say something. I will let you ponder that deep truth for awhile and come up with your own interpretation.

And have you noticed that I have written a whole four paragraphs now without mentioning sweet little Charlie Emerson, the world's most astounding grandson? That's because I am over it! What's a grandbaby in the giant scheme of the universe?

If you believe that, then you have not been paying attention to any of my earlier doodles and you might as well stop paying attention to this one if you haven't already. I am simply trying to write about something other than being a grandmother, but obviously, nothing else is very interesting right now.

Oh wait. Back in January I mentioned a book recommendation might be coming in February. So here it is: "A Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp is a beautifully lyrical book about learning to rejoice in every moment by seeing everything, the good, the bad, the ugly and the babylicious beautiful, as a gift from God for which to be thankful. She writes a blog, too, that is much better than this one, so feel free to fly off and read hers instead of mine. I haven't yet reached the point where I automatically thank God for everything as it is happening, but I am keeping a journal of thanksgiving. Unfortunately, I have been procrastinating about adding to it lately, so I'm only up to 400 thanks. Anyway, if you want to be challenged and astounded at the same time, read this book!

So maybe that can count as my belated February posting. I feel a wave of procrastination coming on for the last half of this month, unless Charlie does something too cute to keep to myself. Then you may be blessed beyond your ability to continue living without seeing him in person, so be careful how much you read about him.

Our scripture verse for this month is I Peter 2:9-10 straight from the King James version: "But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people, that ye should show forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvelous light; who in time past were not a people but are now the people of God; who had not obtained mercy but now have obtained mercy."

Join me in being peculiar and let's praise God for whatever is going on in our lives right this very minute!

Dear faithful Doodlicious readers, please forgive the gaping hole in Doodledum in the month of February! I'm afraid I lost my mind for awhile awaiting the birth of my first grandson. It never occurred to me that becoming a grandmother would bring out the nesting instinct almost as strongly as when I has hatching my own daughters. But boy howdy, when February hit I went into my own version of March madness a month early! I knitted frenziedly on the blanket I had been ever so slowly working on for several months. And I cooked and froze meals for the impending little family. And I packed a bag for my week long stay after the birth, which required washing and replacing the same clothes over and over for two weeks! You may be wondering why I kept wearing the same clothes I was planning to take with me, as anyone with any smarts would. The truth of the matter is I had eaten myself into a state of empathetic fatness that left me with few articles of clothing big enough to fit my once (a long time ago) respectably-sized hips and thighs. And through all that crazy mania I still had to live my regular life with only a tiny piece of my brain still functioning in the real world!

Then the glorious day of Charlie's birth finally arrived--on one of the worst tornadic days to hit Kentucky in years! My little grandson may have just a touch of his grammy's dramatic streak in him. He certainly knows how to make an entrance! Anyway, that whole long day was just chock full of anticipation and stressification as we hunkered down in the hallways during tornado warnings, posted updates on the goings on by Facebook, text and email, and wandered around in a daze hoping the baby would just come already. And finally he did! At 11:24 p.m. on March 2, 2012, Charlie Emerson Davis was born healthy and cuter than any other baby this grammy has seen since her own little daughters were born. He weighed in at 6 pounds even, 18 inches long. Such perfect joy happens only a few times in life and I'm so blessed to have experienced it again! I must admit, however, that by the time we made it to bed that night I felt like I had given birth myself--my body hurt all over, I was exhausted and my brain was foggy.

After sharing little Charlie with his aunts and uncle and Grampy Kuss and the other set of grandparents over the weekend, I was thrilled to be able to stay the whole next week to cuddle the little guy in between feedings, diaper changes and doctor appointments to monitor his jaundice. Oh and I cooked some and ran a few errands, but they don't count much. The cuddles are what counted. Now it has been a whole week since I've seen him and he has already grown a whole half pound and an inch! Next weekend we're going back to get a dose of baby goodness again and to give little Charlie another ride on the Grammy roller coaster! I can hardly wait!!

So what great lessons did I learn through this wondrous event? You knew I would have some, didn't you?

1. God is way too good to me. He's way too good to all of us.
2. Babies are the best invention God ever thunk up!
3. Boys can be just as cute and lovable as girls. Who knew?
4. Babies are so worth getting fat and stressed and crazy and exhausted over, although it probably isn't entirely necessary for a grandmother. The whole COMPOSE word-for-the-year thing certainly flew out the window for a couple of weeks!
5. Seeing my daughter being a mommy is sweeter than I can put into words.

Maybe next month I'll have something else to talk about, but then again, maybe not. Have a happy rest of March!

The happiest of new years to all of you Doodlemaniacs out there! No matter what the Mayans had in mind when they ended their calendar with 2012, which I personally think was just a matter of getting tired and moving onto other things when they hit the nicely turned 12/21/12 ("Hey, Nodi, look at this number! Kind of a nice way to end it, don't ya think?" "Yes, Boba. Please, let's do something else for a change. Couldn't we try going out for lunch and a pottery class?"), I'm hoping for a better year than ever. And that includes writing more convoluted and impossible to punctuate sentences than ever for the sheer fun of it!

Now then, let's get down to serious business. Have you chosen a WORD for the year yet? That is the latest trend in eliminating New Year's resolutions, that are oh so difficult to keep, by calling them something less intimidating, like a WORD. One, namely I, cannot go into a new year without the firm determination to become a completely new woman. I mean, really, who wants to go into a new year as a completely old woman? That would be especially depressing for a man, I suppose, but I'm not here to solve the problems of men! Or even women, for that matter! The best I can do is attempt to solve the problems of one old woman, but since she isn't here at the moment, I have to settle for working on myself. (Bear with me people. I'm writing this before noon, which means I am not fully awake, and therefore totally irresponsible for what comes out.)

So after much agonizing, and trying to let the WORD come to me by waiting patiently for at least a couple of weeks, all the while ruminating over a long list of extremely cool WORDS that could so bring my soul into harmony with everything and everyone around me, praying for God to please get this show on the road and just give it to me, for pete's sake, as he whispered PATIENCE in my ear, to which I said, "Are you kidding me, God? We both know that is the one word anyone with any sense would never choose because we all know where that one would lead", that I finally settled (aren't you glad?) on the gloriously multi-dimensional COMPOSE! Yes, dear readers, I am venturing out on a journey "to free from agitation" my desire "to create by mental or artistic labor" by "arranging in proper or orderly form" all the components that "form the substance of" my life. This word is so perfect for all my obsessive neat freak and task oriented to-do lists as well as my inner creative urges!

But ha! I am learning already that COMPOSE is just this side of PATIENCE on God's word scale, evidently, because every stinkin' day since choosing that word I have been smacked in the face with some annoying pestilence of frustrating irritation threatening my freedom from agitation!! Contrary to my internal fantasy about this whole word thing, I am not suddenly perfectly capable of getting through all my to-do lists for the day or keeping my COMPOSure when freakazoid aggravations insert themselves into my well-oiled schedule, or creating great poetry or baby blankets in the midst of the non-composed chaos of life. Strangely, God has a way of taking the plans I have for changing myself (which I admit involved pretty much me becoming an even more Debbieish Debbie, rather than a different Debbie) and evolving them into His plans for changing me little by little into what He created me to be. And what he created me to be, from the evidence of the last couple of weeks, must be someone who is better able to handle disruptions in plans, who will remain COMPOSED when dealing with children and all manner of disturbing humanity, who will put aside the to-do lists in order to be creative and then put aside the creativity in order to meet the needs of people, who will be less concerned with what gets done and more concerned with who needs help, and someone who will be less hissified and more Himified.

Mercy! What a way God has of using our puny little schemes to further His grand scheme! This could be a long year on the COMPOSED learning curve for me. I hope all of you out there will remind me, when you see me about to DECOMPOSE, that God is watching and waiting for me to Himify. Really, people, help me!

Next month--a book recommendation and maybe a baby! And possibly something I can't actually plan on at this point in time.

A belated Merry Christmas to all you delightful peeps out there! And hopefully a right-on-time Happy New Year, too, unless something happens between now and midnight tomorrow night, which is entirely possible, considering the fact that I am writing this 700 miles from home. When one lives far from family, one is blessed with the opportunity to enjoy the thrill of traveling hundreds of miles (for us that takes place in a car) to multiple Christmases in multiple places. For us the week between Christmas and the new year is generally filled with traveling to Kansas City, Missouri and Rogers, Arkansas.

As nice as it is to return to familiar stomping grounds to visit with family and old friends, there's a part of me that longs to stay home and bask in some Christmas peace for a few days, spend time relaxing in the afterglow of all the hustle and bustle involved in preparing for the holiday, rather than continuing the mayhem for another week on the road.

But that shall never be, at least as long as we still have family to visit, for what is Christmas all about if it's not joining with our dearest loved ones to celebrate the birth of God's son together? And eating too much really yummy food that doesn't get cooked just any old time? And catching some after Christmas sales in much larger cities with stores never heard of in the small town of Corbin? And playing several board and gift exchange games with all those quirky relatives with which we long to bond? Huh? What could be more important than that?

If Jesus could travel from the infinite to the finite, from perfection with the Father to an imperfect world amid frail humanity, from peace and harmony in heaven to conflict and danger as all the powers of evil conspired to get rid of Him, then I can certainly trek across a few states to spend some time rejoicing with extended family in the freedom of our salvation made possible by that first Christmas journey.

And then when I come back to reality at my house, where all the Christmas decorations await the hideous de-decorating process, a week's worth of travel laundry awaits the washer, the refrigerator awaits re-stocking, new stuff awaits a place to stick it, mail and newspapers await sorting, and the old bod awaits the energy to return to work, I must figure out how to attack the new year with all manner of resolutions, goals and minute by minute planning certain to make a new woman of me! I'll let you know how that all works out for me.

In the meantime, I wish you much joy, good health, efficiency and faithful service to the Lord as you enter the new year of 2012!

Hello loyal doodlish people! As you can see, I have waited until after the major holiday of November to write this installment of desperation. That's really not what I intended at the beginning of the month. I sincerely and determinedly planned to write a nice Thanksgiving type of doodle the weekend before the big day, but something happened to deter me. I can't remember what, but it was definitely something. Last month I was in this same exact intersection of life--time to write a doodle, with nothing but the big blank side of a mental-deadline tractor trailer sliding inexorably toward me on the wet pavement of my brain. Just before the moment of impact, wherein I would be forever smushed by my own writing lethargy into a muttering mass of morass, I cried out to God for inspiration--even a single word to propel me forth into deep ponderings! And He came through with a major praise fest in my soul for the torrents of blessings of my life. So now I'm thinking that he surprised me with a Thanksgiving doodle a month early.

That leaves me wondering (once again) what to write about this very minute. I could add to last month's thankfulness by telling you what a blessed time we had as a family cooking, eating, decorating and playing board games together over the last five days, but since I just snuck that in on you, there doesn't seem to be any point in being redundant on purpose. Or I could just skip right onto my December Christmas doodle, similar to the way retailers jump from Halloween to Christmas without much, if any, thought for Thanksgiving. That would be giving into the fast-paced, materialistic culture all around us these days, however, so that is not an option for this wish-I-could-put-the-brakes-on-and-just-enjoy-some-peace kind of girl.

So I think I will open the door of my washing machine brain and let you see into a cycle that has managed to suck me down into the murky depths of agitation over and over in my life. Just when I think I'm about to come to the top and make it into the dryer with a nice, fresh-smelling sheet of happiness to control the static, I'm dragged back down for another round. This is what I like to call the Manic Martha Machine of Madness.

I have a problem discerning the good from the best, and doing from being. I so want to BE the BEST like Mary, Martha's sister, who knew how to slow down and sit at the feet of Jesus, being with Him and letting Him teach her what to do. Instead I flit around DOING the GOOD, and letting that good drag me around until I am exhausted, grumpy and mad at the Marys who are not helping me with all the doing I get myself into! I'm especially vulnerable to being churned to the bottom around the holidays, but this year I've felt the pull through every season. I think I am getting to the age where I need to get this figured out before I end up a little shredded wet rag tangled around the agitator of stupidity!

Changes need to be made somewhere in order to make room for the little blessing to come in March. I have no idea what I need to give up, but it's not going to be writing and it's not going to be time with my family. God loves all of us Marthas. There must be a way for us to love Him back without driving ourselves batty. Let us all pray for each other!

And that, my friends, concludes another episode from the Doodling Dingbat.
Check in next month for some Christmas spice around the gingerbread house.
Godspeed (which I hope is nice and slow) to you!

As I sat down to write this month’s doodle, there was not a single thought in my head about what to say. This happens a lot. I like it better when something smacks me in the head in the course of zipping through an ordinary day. Someone will make a statement that hits the profundity button I have stashed just behind my left ear, or a child I know does something that tickles the hysterically funny bone just below my ribs, or a writer grabs me by the throat, where my emotions like to lie in wait to overcome me, with a great line. And then the Doodle Alert goes off deep in my cluttered brain and I get really HAPPY! I know what I’m going to write about and I have time to stir it around in my Thought Pot, tasting it now and then, adding bits of seasoning or thickening until it is ready for cyberspastic consumption.

Most of the time, though, I jog through the month, oblivious to the ticking clock, until the last weekend suddenly pops up and shouts, “Na na na na na na! Caught ya again! Now you’re in a fine mess of total blankness! What are you gonna do about it?” I just hate it when the month catches me doodleless!! And then I have to sit down and stare into space for several hours until I force myself to start typing something.

So that’s what I figured would happen this afternoon. I had no brilliant thoughts or funny stories to tell from October, my favorite month of the year. I prayed for God to give me something worth writing, which is something that I also do a lot.

But this time something really incredible happened.

I started thinking about why October is my favorite month. It’s because of the beauty of the autumn leaves, and the relief of cooler weather after a long hot summer. It’s because “October” is just a really fun sounding word that reminds me of German class in high school, with all those phlegm loosening “achs” spouting forth. And it’s a quieter month. No big holidays that require lots of shopping or frenzy.

Then I remembered that it was 36 Octobers ago that my husband and I first started eyeing each other around a campfire with some church friends. And eight years later I prayed to be blessed with a little October baby girl and she was born October 1st the next year! Since then I have been blessed with two more daughters and years and years of more family blessings than I could have ever “asked or imagined” way back on that night around the campfire. And now that little October baby is expecting her own little baby in a few months. Glory!

God smacked me in the head with a huge October snowball of wonderment this afternoon. And that snowball has just about done me in. I cannot believe the way He has blessed me! And that’s just here in the earthly realm! Listen to this from Ephesians 1:3-14:

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will—to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding. And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment—to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ.

In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory. And you also were included in Christ when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession—to the praise of his glory.

Put that in your Thought Pot and taste it! No extra seasoning or thickening needed. It is mmm, mmm good to the last drop and then there’s more bubbling up and overflowing forevermore! Man, am I glad I asked God for some inspiration today!

“Holy Gargantuan Granny Thighs, Batman! Have you seen Corbin’s Nanny Poppins lately?”

“Yes, unfortunately I have, my extremely skinny sidekick,” answered the Caped Crusader. “And I must say, she seems to be experiencing difficulties with her umbrella. I saw her the other day plummeting to earth after rescuing a cat from a tree. It was not a pretty sight.”

“I know what you mean,” the Boy Wonder replied, shaking his youthful head. “I hear she’s in the market to buy a second magic umbrella, just to get her off the ground.”

“Yes, Robin, gravity seems to be exerting more of a pull on our poor old nanny, these days. A new umbrella may be just the ticket!”

Well, don’t believe everything you hear, faithful readers! Debbie Poppins will not be buying another magic umbrella. They are way too expensive for this collegically impoverished nanny. I am, instead, doing something much less fun, but supposedly more rational and healthy. I am going on a diet once again to shed the blubber that my poor body accumulated during its year long journey into Motherangstvilla.

Please do me a favor and ask me how the blubber blast is going each and every time you see me or otherwise communicate with me. I will need as much guilt and shame heaped upon my head as my friends can dish out to keep me on the healthy side of nutrition. The clarion call of scrumptious chocolate bugles to me like a bull moose bellows to the lady moosies. We’re talking extreme attraction here that must be fought off with really big antlers of self-denial. This granny-to-be aims to be in fine form by the time she takes on the joyous role of granny-yesireebobbette, and she needs to get those battle antlers clanking right now!

A granny with blubbersome thighs and antlers on her head may not be the most picturesque mental picture for you doodleheads out there, but for me, I think it may be working some willpower magic in my soul. It reminds me of a verse that I just this minute looked up in my Bible concordance, because I deeply believe the Bible speaks to every situation if one just takes the time to look for it. I have my own personal paraphrasing in parentheses:

When you sit to dine with a ruler (or with anyone, anywhere),
note well what is before you (be on the lookout for chocolate),
and put a knife to your throat (put on your moose antlers)
if you are given to gluttony (tend to pig out).
Do not crave his delicacies (chocolate-covered anythings),
for that food is deceptive (the devil’s tool to make you FAT)!
—Proverbs 23:1-3

That about says it all on that topic, wouldn’t you agree?

So what else shall we talk about in this fine month of September? How about knitting? Hmmm. I don’t have all that much to say on that subject, other than I am in the process of knitting a baby blanket that is soft and babyish.

How about the daughter who caused all the blubber to congeal upon the granny thighs? She is doing just fine, thank you for asking. In fact, she seems to be having a great time in the big city of Nashville. We will be traveling down to visit her for Parent Weekend as a matter of fact. She wants to show us all of her new hangouts, like the place where she works as a dance assistant, the church she enjoys attending, the cowboy boot shop and other such specialty spots for people with actual money to spend on something other than college, and the Wild Horse Saloon where she goes to line dance (well, she’s been there once.) Yes, her horizons are expanding every which way and that makes every ounce of thigh blubber worthwhile. She also made an A on her first English paper, so hey, I’m a proud mama!

Thank you, Lord, for even working good out of thigh blubber!

What a month it has been, dear faithful readers of the Doodle Report!  Mother angst swelled at an alarming rate as the impending departure of Baby Kuss for college neared.  My sentimental heart just kept ticking down all the lasts:  last time to sit with her in church, last time to eat supper with her at our table, last run for chocolate, last night time back scratch, last "Goodnight!" at bedtime.  Of course, none of these were actual "lasts", praise the Lord!  But they were "lasts" in the sense that we would never experience them in quite the same way.  From now on Carly will be coming home for temporary stays, no longer a permanent resident of the household.  What a strange thought and an even stranger reality!

So I toppled into the old Slough of Motherly Despond there for awhile.  I waded around in the muck and let it seep into my shoes, then I just went for it and dove in head first.  Might as well wallow and swim to the other side,  rather than tiptoe around the edges, that's what I say.  Swimming and wallowing is messier, but more efficient!

Once we arrived at Belmont to move her in, we were greeted by about ten cheering college kids who flung open our car doors, grabbed our stuff and made off with it up to Carly's room.  In less than a minute all her paraphernalia had been whisked away up two flights of stairs and placed by her bed, while we sat in stunned astonishment!  We then drove over to deposit our cars in the parking garage.  This is the point when my wallowing began to turn to praise.  Carly is going to be in an amazing place for the next four years, surrounded by a campus full of caring, energetic people as well as a loving God (". . . the Lord's unfailing love surrounds the man who trusts in him" Psalm 32 10b).

Saying goodbye on Sunday was difficult, but on the way to the car I noticed a lot of sniffling moms and stoic dads, so I knew this was not a rite of passage that came easily to anyone.  Monday was the worst as I emptied her wastebasket, picked up stray shoes, cleared out the last of her laundry and returned six half empty water glasses to the kitchen, while the dog padded along behind me in empathetic companionship.

After a week and several phone calls later we are all adjusting to the new normal.  I've been reminded of some scriptures that have never failed to encourage and relieve my anxieties throughout my nearly 27 years of parenting three daughters:

Isaiah 49:15-16, when the Lord says of His people--"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?  Though she may forget, I will not forget you!  See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands. . . ."  When worry starts to rear its head, I like to remind God to look at His palms to see my daughters' names are right there, so He'll not forget to bless them always.

Psalm 41:10 & 13 reminds me that He is holding onto their hands, just as a mother holds the hand of her young child to guide her away from danger and to keep her from falling--"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.  I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. . . . For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you."

And finally this one in Ephesian 3:14-21 gets me in a praise-the-Lord mood whether I want to be or not--"For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom his whole family in heaven and on earth derives its name.  I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith  And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.  Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!  Amen."

Hallestinkinlujah!  Jesus loves me and my whole family and He has more way cool things in store for us than we can even imagine!!!  What?  That must mean having totally grown-up children can still be fun and fulfilling and more wondrous than I know!

And just to prove that to me in a spectacularly God-like way, He has chosen this muck-wallowing time of life to bring a brand new baby into our family.  I'M GOING TO BE A GRANDMA!!!   Amy and Chris are expecting a little bundle of emotional weirdness in March!  Oh my heavens, it's time to break out the knitting needles and fake champagne!

You may applaud, cheer and praise the Lord now.  Thank you for listening.

Merciful heavens, if it isn't the last day of the month again and only five hours from August!  Not only am I blown away by the sentence I just wrote, especially the part about it being nearly AUGUST already (wasn't it just Christmas about two weeks ago?) I'm amazed at my procrastinating self for leaving this most beloved of monthly duties to the very last few hours.  AGAIN!   What is that about?  If I didn't like doodling, I wouldn't be doodling it (ha ha or LOL, whichever you prefer, I just can't help but enjoy my sense of humor when I'm under pressure to write something brilliant).  So why is it so difficult for me to sit down and just doodle, like two weeks sooner?  Maybe it's because two weeks ago I was in the midst of Christmas duties and just couldn't get to it right then.  I think that must be it.  Time has entered into Twilight Zone warp speed, which makes it impossible to get everything done in a timely and organized fashion. 
Therefore, late doodling is not in any way my fault.

Isn't human rationality fun?  It's so rational and useful in times like this.

Anyway, obviously this isn't going to be one of those deep and meaningful doodles that you all crave like chocolate-covered-just-about-anythings.  I have one of those stewing in a big pot on my mind's stove, but it's not ready for consumption yet.  No, this one's going to be one of those rambling doodles that makes little sense, but uses a plethora of astoundingly cool sounding lexemes (and that dear friends, according to my handy dandy thesaurus is an astoundingly cool sounding word for "words").  So already this month's installment of desperatelydoodlingdebbie has impacted the world with just that one little tidbit of information.  I expect to hear Corbinites (and other -ites when I pass through your towns) waxing eloquently about their newfound love of odd lexemes.  My, I feel good about myself at this moment.  Just downright lexemically cool. 

You, dear reader, however, may possibly be wondering what on earth has come over your usually pondersome friend, Debbie.  Well, let me tell you.  I'm just pondered out.  What with the time warp and all, my thoughts can't ponder much these days.  Pondering takes time, and time is money and all my money needs to go towards the national debt and by the time that gets paid off there won't be any time for pondering.  And now I'm a little dizzy from that circular sentence.

Here's the real deal.  I'm about to enter into a euphoric/woebegone state that is sapping all my energy in this present moment.   August is upon us (and that's a near rhyme if ever I heard one, and I have).   School will be starting in a week, which means my nannying life is about to become less nannyish with those kids gone for most of the day.  It also means my mommy life will soon be a lot less mommyish as my youngest travels out into college land.  I'm thrilled for my daughter who will have a spectacular time learning slews of mind-expanding information, befriending breathtaking numbers of fascinating people, and growing into her own beautiful self.   I'm sad for me, because it will all be happening without me being right there in the middle of it, as I have been for most of her adventures these past eighteen years.

I just need to wallow in this mother muck for a while longer.  Try not to give up on me.  Next month, after I've procrastinated through the half second it will take to stumble onto the cusp of September, maybe I'll have something else to talk about.  In fact, I can just about guarantee it.  I'm brewing some aromatic sweet, sweet tea on the back burner.  Stay tuned!

*By the way, if anyone knows any teens who would like some one-on-one tutoring in the fine art of creative writing, and you're not too afraid of what might happen to their precious minds, I'm looking for some students for this school year to come join me in the grand adventure of stringing lexemes together into mesmerizing masses of merriment or melancholia, whichever floats their particular boats.  We'll delve into the personal narrative, short story, poetry, one-act play and the all encompassing JOURNALING.  This is not free, however, so keep that in mind.  College payments loom over the teacher's head.  Thank you so much.      

Hello Doodleheads! As your technologically savvy Doodler, I'll have you know that I'm writing this on my iPad in the car as we are traveling back from a two day orientation at soon-to-be collegiate co-ed Carly's soon-to-be new home, Belmont University in Nashville. What a wondrous place that is! I want to go to college all over again! But alas, methinks me oldish body would never survive a week of the college hijinksish and mind-bendingish life, much less four years of it. I'm half dead (maybe even three quarters) after only two days!

Walking back and forth all over campus, up and down flights of steps and hills, trying to absorb reams of information flying at me at a speed faster than I could manage to get my reading glasses out of my purse and find a working pen to copy down the online whatsit to tell Carly to go to in order to take care of this detail and contemplate that choice or find this person to talk to about this essential element of survival--well, I can't even keep up with what this sentence is supposed to convey, much less do that! Oh my! Youth is so wasted on the energetic young! If they only knew how much fun they are having when they're having it!

The same goes for us older folks, I reckon. I wish I had realized how much fun I was experiencing when our girls were little, getting me up nearly every single night for 14 years to vomit, go pee pee, have a snack or just say "Hi, Mommy! Wanna play?", or asking me the same question five times before moving on to the next one when learning to talk, or begging for back scratches nearly every night (this one is still ongoing), or needing help on homework (I have now completed each grade 4 times over, so I am a bonafide genius), or thinking up every conceivable type of birthday party possible for me to execute with flair and little money. Then there were all those wardrobe crises, and hair crises, and friendship crises, and major project crises, and crisis crises I was expected to somehow solve with a wave of my magical Mommy wand. And then there was the money, trickling in a window while flash flooding out the door (un huh, majorly still in the midst of
that faith journey).

So much life has flowed under the parental bridge and it has flowed like the rapids. While I was busy trying to keep us all in the boat, avoiding drowning, I didn't have time to enjoy the ride as much as I wish I had. I had my eyes set on the waves more than on all the laughter and joy exuding from my daughters' faces.

But guess what? I'm determined to enjoy this last ride along College Boulevard. I may have to do it through phone calls, emails, Facebook, texts and phone pictures, but I'm doing it, if my brain has to absorb itself and reform into a technological marvel of 21st Century mommyhood!

I am a MESS right now, but only because I've been so blessed. If you see me mopping up tears one minute and laughing hysterically the next, don't call the men with the white jackets on me. Just know that right now this is the way I'm praising God for all the years He's given me with my three spectacular daughters. It's a bit messy, but those rapids are still flowing, and I'm riding the waves with full on joy that tends to leak out my eyes at odd moments.

Hope your June was as full of life as mine was!