Happy Birthday.

Its finally here. My mom’s favorite day, the day I’ve been dreading since she passed away.

Today is mom’s birthday.

She loved her birthday. It was the only time that was all about her, and just her, no one else but her! That’s one reason I was so glad youngest was born the day before. I can’t imagine her sharing her birthday with a grandchild. Or anyone else that she knew for that matter. It was HER day.

She wasn’t one of these moms that would play games to like see if you remembered her birthday or not, nope, not my mom. She would remind you 6 months in advance that her day was coming. When it finally arrived, if you called her, the first words out of your mouth had better be Happy Birthday. If you went to see her, you better have a present. If you did come empty handed, then you would leave with your pockets empty because she would guilt you into giving her everything you had.

I know its not real, but if it were, She would be holding court up in Heaven waiting for everyone to bring her gifts.

Tonight we will lift a glass of her favorite blackberry wine in her honor.

Happy Birthday Mom, we miss you, we love you!  It just isn’t the same without you!

Say it ain’t so!

Today marks the end of birthday season.

From Feb-May we celebrate 5 birthdays. Today marks the final birthday in birthday season. Leaving just me, Stud and Son2 to celebrate this year.

Youngest is 17 today.

Its scary.

My youngest is one year away from being an adult.

That one thought terrifies me beyond belief.

Youngest birth was a very emotional one.  Three weeks before he was born, one of my best friends gave birth to twins. A week later, both of her boys passed away.  It was extremely difficult to be happy, joyful that I had given birth to a healthy baby boy. I felt like I had to suppress my happiness, especially around her.

Instead, I shared my boy.

Youngest brought her comfort. She would stop by my house on her way home from work, and say I need him.  Then she would sit on my couch and just hold him, giving him the love she was supposed to give her sons.  Some days, her mother would stop by for the very same reason. Other days, her sister.  They doted on him and emotionally adopted him.

He was destined to be spoiled. Between being the youngest of 5 boys, and being the emotional replacement for my friend, he never lacked for love.

My friend went on a few years later and gave birth to a daughter that would grow to be like a little sister to all of my boys. But she has always been especially close to youngest. Its almost like she was born with brotherly love for him in her heart.  As they reached teen-dom, outsiders, folks who didn’t know the situation,  have asked them if they were dating, to which both snarl their noses and say “Ewwwwwww”. We all laugh and explain.

Our youngest son, was also my smallest at birth, he decided he wanted to come a couple weeks early, while his brothers all wanted to be late. I guess he just couldn’t wait to join in the fun.  Or he knew we all needed our hearts healed.

He is sensitive, and quiet. So quiet its hard to figure out what’s going on in that head of his. He feels. He feels every emotion deeply. From happiness, to sadness, to anger, to love, if he feels it, you will know it. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

He looks up to his brothers and wants to be respected by them.  When he isn’t, he demands it. He will never admit it, but he’s always been a mama’s boy but loves his grandfather with all that he is.  He is a protector, and roots for the underdog.

I know that one day he will be an amazing adult. I just wish time wouldn’t move so fast.

Happy Birthday Son!

That man of mine.

I was climbing in to bed last night and saw Stud laying there, making funny noises in his sleep, all oblivious to the fact that he was once again taking up 3/4 of the bed, and not in a good way. Laying diagonal with arms and legs splayed, to where I had to crawl over him to get to my little corner of allotted space.

I smiled.

I love that man of mine.

I tell him that all the time.

That I love him.

What I don’t tell him is why.

I’m not the best in the world to show my appreciation for all he does. I try to show him in little ways, but I’m not sure he gets the picture, that I do in fact get that he does lots for me.

I never tell him that my world would crumble without him in it.

Or that he is my rock. My stability. My hero. My bestfriend.

He tolerates so much drama around here. Its never dull, there is always something brewing. After all, we care for and live with a man who has dementia and most days doesn’t know if we are friend, family or foe.

He loves me when I am rather unattractive, inside and out. On the days where I feel ugly, tempermental, and let’s just say it, and call it what it is, bitchy.

He puts up with my moods, my emotions and my evilness that pops its ugly head once a month.

He finds me sexy even though I need to lose weight, my joints don’t move like they used to and I seem to have acquired a waddle that I didn’t have before.

He would rather see me bare faced, than all made up and prettified, but always complements me when I do dress up and look fancy.

He pops me on the rear when I’m washing dishes, getting something out of the fridge, folding clothes, doesn’t matter what I’m doing, just so he can hear me yell.

Even though he relishes the hermit life, he goes out with  me from time to time to keep me happy.

He know what makes me tick, and what pushes my buttons, both in good ways and bad, and uses them wisely. Or sometimes he pushes the wrong buttons just to sit and enjoy the show.

He keeps me on my toes, that man of mine.

I love every second of it.

RIght when I needed it.

Old age snuck up on me and didn’t tell me.

Over the weekend, Oldest and wife took Stud and myself out for a night of gambling. We went a few hours away to the casino to play penny slots, and quarter poker.

When did slots get so complicated?

When Stud and I were first married, we lived in Las Vegas, gambling capital of the US. We would go out about once a month, spend a roll of nickels and go home. It was a fun, cheap date. Then the slot machines had one line, only one line. You only won if you matched that line. Now, the machines have 100 lines. Literally one game I played had 100 lines. How the heck do you know if you won?

At one point, we set a meet place so that if we got separated during the evening, we would all know where to go to find each other.

Daughter and I went off in one direction, Stud and oldest the other direction. About an hour later, we run in to Oldest, and he’s alone. Where’s Stud I ask. Oldest replies he has no idea that he’s been looking for him about half hour now. Daughter said did you check the fountain?

Sure enough, there, wandering around the fountain like a lost puppy dog was my Stud. My heart lept when I saw him. As we were walking off, arm in arm, he leans and whispers in my ear, “I couldn’t find the Ma. I needed and missed the Ma.”

In case you didn’t know, the boys and Stud all call me “the Ma”.

I teared up slightly, because right then, at that moment, was the perfect moment.

He had no idea when he said it, but that was the exact thing I needed to hear. Until he said it, I didn’t know that was what I needed. But it was. And my Stud said it. Right when I needed it.

Sometimes marriage is that way. Often times, marriage is a series of misses, of nuances missed, words left unsaid, feelings tromped on and not lifted up.

But other times, oh the other times, make up for those misses. Those times when a look given at the right time to let you know they understand, a brush of the hand reminding you they are right beside you, a few words spoken or something as simple as washing dishes without being asked.

The moments in a marriage need not be big, grand gestures, even those are fabulous! No, the best moments in a marriage are the small ones. The ones that take you by surprise and make your heart skip a beat, your eyes well with tears that don’t fall, that make your breath hitch for an nth of a second. Yes, those are the best moments.

When Hope Rises by Dora Hiers

This week, the 

Christian Fiction Blog Alliance 

is introducing 

When Hope Rises 

Pelican Book Group (May 2015) 



After a successful auditing career, Dora left the corporate world to be a stay-at-home mom to her two sons. When her youngest son no longer wanted her hanging out at school with him anymore, Dora started writing Heart Racing, God-Gracing romance. She is a member of Romance Writers of America (RWA) and her local chapter, Carolina Romance Writers.

Dora and her real life hero make their home in North Carolina. When she takes a break from cranking out stories, she enjoys reading, family gatherings, and mountain cabin getaways. She despises traffic, bad coffee, technological meltdowns, and a sad ending to a book. Her books always end with a happily-ever-after!


Art teacher Shelby Coltman transforms junk into treasure and longs for a place to showcase her creations. She’s thrilled when her friend volunteers to room with her. Shelby can finally buy a storefront. Unfortunately, Kennedi’s brother can’t seem to let go.

Abandoned as a teenager, guidance counselor Tate Malone has become surrogate and over-protective father to his sister. Life is great until Shelby Coltman wheedles his impressionable sister into sharing an apartment. Raised in wealth, the beautiful Shelby could never understand poverty or rejection, and Tate doesn’t appreciate her uprooting his sister.
When Shelby hands over her savings to a homeless student, will God obliterate Tate’s fears and deliver all of Shelby’s dreams…when hope rises?

If you would like to read the first chapter of When Hope Rises, go HERE.

Too many tools

After taking youngest to work today, I pull up in the driveway to see Dad standing on the porch.

I walk up and ask him what he’s up to:

Dad: I’m trying to figure a way to get outta here without them catching me!

Me: Who’s trying to catch you?

Dad:  The law!

Me:  Why are you running from the law?

Dad: You can only have so many tools in your car before they get you.

Stress relief?

I don’t recall having a week as stressful as this week has been, ever. Period.

This week has been nothing but one big huge ball of stress. It must be getting to Stud.

Last night I’m laying in bed trying to fall asleep. Stud has been in bed for about 3 hours before me so he was doing some heavy snoring laying on his stomach all sprawled out. All of the sudden, he raises up on his elbows, turns towards me and shouts “Cows are out!”

I jumped about a foot, and said “What?”  All confused like.

He turns towards me again and says “Cows are out!”

Next thing I know, he’s kicking his legs, twitching and then BAM, falls dead asleep for the rest of the night.

I think he finally released the stress.