Barb Boylan Schager

Barb Boylan Schager closed her eyes for the very last time here Thursday, a day before her 45th birthday. I like to picture her lying  wrapped in the loving arms of her husband and her two sons as she did so, head tilted back, smiling, fearless and looking upward.


I am told I am not far off.


There are truly no adequate words to describe the stalwart determination, grit and grace Barb displayed in the face of one of the world's most horrific and disgusting diseases: pancreatic cancer.  While most of us would have turned inward, she turned out, inspiring children, mothers, sisters, brothers...everyone in her path to fight like hell, to put your faith in God and under all circumstances, keep smiling.


She leaves behind two beautiful, blue eyed sons, who cannot possibly begin to fathom the ripple effect of love their mother left here.  It is her sons who I most often think of when I imagine her gone...now here without any living biological parents, and yet left with an angel/father nonetheless, chosen perfectly for them by their mother.


None of us will likely ever understand the purpose behind the degeneration and pain cancer leaves in its wake; the early goodbyes or the gaping holes, but I believe we all understand why Barb came here, a California diamond in the Iowa rough, choosing for her sons, the man and path they now follow, her family, friends and everyone in those ripples she created; better, wiser and eyes wide open grateful for each and every day.


Rest in sweet peace Barb...the community you created will not soon release your sweet boys and husband from our warmest embrace.

football + homework + a problem

It's football season around these parts.  My kid LOOOOOVES him some football.  Which is just great for a whole bunch of reasons:

1. His momma LOOOOOOVES her some football too.
2. I get to make and enforce the rules of the house with football as bait. What do I mean by that?  Well, let's take for example, homework:

Your homework isn't finished? No football.
Your timed reading isn't complete? No football.
Your spelling words aren't written five times each? No football.

And so forth.  It works exceptionally well because it would be close to a life altering tragedy for T to miss football.  So typically by the time I come storming through the door to pull his football laundry from the washer, re-stuff the pads for another practice and clothe him, he's done with his homework for the day and ready to head to practice.  Which still puts dinner at approximately 8 p.m. but that's another story for another day.

BUT. There is always a but, isn't there? 
Sometimes, when the kid has questions about his homework, he'll save them for AFTER football.  Which puts us at about four minutes until bedtime with T whipping out his bag and declaring...."WAIT, I have a problem!"  

And I promptly declare: "To which ONLY I have the answer...muahahaha."  
And then he rolls his eyes.  
He then fetches said "problem" and we do our best to tackle it.  
So far, so good.  

Until last night when said "problem" was too much for even momma to handle.  Now allow me to admit, I was never a math whiz.  I actually was kicked out of my Algebra II class (temporarily) for, the horror of it all, asking too many questions.  So of course, it was a math problem that got me.  

I read the problem, my palms got sweaty, I reread the problem and promptly and calmly asked, "Where's the book?" 
T responds, there is no book.
Okay then, "Where's my phone?"

And then there was a series of banter that went something like this:
T: Who on earth are you going to call and why?
Me: Chew. He has a photographic math memory. Trust me. If anyone can help.  Chewy can help.
T: You're kidding me, right?
Me: Nope.
T: Mom, this is fifth grade math.
Me: Shut it.

And then Chew wasn't home.  But since he is such a fab friend, he heeded my call for an emergency call back and was back on the line within seconds.  And then, after explaining to him our predicament, he didn't even skip a beat.  He also didn't make fun of me at all, which is rare, considering the circumstances. So we got straight to work. I read "the problem."

And then there was a series of banter that went something like this:
Chew: Read that to me again.
Chew: Read that to me one more time.
Chew: Can you re-read that first part to me one more time?
Chew: What was the first sentence again?
*pause* *silence* *pause* *silence*
Chew: Gimme just a second. I need to call you back.

And of course, when he called me back fourteen seconds later, he'd figured out the whole thing.  He also explained it to me, and then explained it to me in a way that I could also explain it to T.  And then he hung up, once again, without making fun of me.

Shortly thereafter, crisis averted, T and I were both in bed.  As we went through our typical goodnight banter: I love you the most! I love you to infinity and beyond.  No, I love YOU the most, and so on, I declared: I love you the most and I win, because I am the oldest and the smartest!  

To which he responded: Oh, you might be the oldest Mom, but Chew is definitely the smartest!  

fistful of mercy

Fistful of Mercy from Fistful of Mercy on Vimeo.

ISU humor

to be grateful

refresher

I posted this to my Facebook page awhile back and am not sure why it never made its way here. Kristin over at Acufit tells more eloquently than I ever could why we all should watch it daily. 

he grows

I shared a glass of wine with a new single momma friend last night and she lamented at my son being amazingly well behaved, attentive and polite. 


I agreed and told her I felt it was mainly a product of him being constantly surrounded by a gaggle of strong, amazing women.  


She responded that he appears better trained than 99% of of the men out there, and at age 11?!?  


Then, after a few seconds of silence I replied: if he ever gets a controlling, shitty girlfriend, I swear to God I will rip her head off.  


And I took another gulp of my wine.