Spring cleaning, blogger style

With this stay-at-home order I’m doing all kinds of spring cleaning, so I thought I’d do some cleaning of the cobwebs on my little corner of the internet.

(Okay, fine, I’m not doing that much cleaning. I can see dust from where I’m sitting, and I really need to mop the kitchen floor...)

When last I wrote, Sean had just retired from General Motors and we were figuring out how to live as a retired couple. After 35 years of getting up at 4 in the morning, I was concerned he wouldn’t be able to adjust to a different sleep schedule. He’s naturally an early bird and I’m naturally a night owl (shocker – we’re opposites) and I was really looking forward to him transitioning to a later bedtime. Our whole married life I’d heard other couples talk about shows they watched together and as silly as that sounds, I was really looking forward to doing that. But realistically, I was not at all sure he could manage it. Keeping his eyes open past 9 pm was a struggle. But after only a few days he began sleeping until 7 am. Which is sleeping in for him!

(And in the Be Careful What You Wish For department: the struggle of watching a Netflix show with someone who does not know how to binge watch is real. Real.)

The plan all along was for Sean to take a few months off and then head back to the work force in some way, shape, or form. After enjoying the no alarm clock life for eight months, he started the consultant life on March 2.

Little did we know the world would turn upside down a few weeks later.

So now we’re sheltering in place in our little apartment. We turned our second bedroom to an office and Sean’s working from home in there. It’s been interesting to hear him on work calls… he has a serious work voice that I’m not used to hearing!

As for me, most of my work with Midway Theater Company is on hold. We haven’t been able to announce our next shows or secure performance locations - but there is precious little I can do until we get back to some semblance of normal and people head back to work.

There are some normal things happening despite this decidedly non-normal life we’re all living. Birthdays are still happening and today is my oldest’s 26^th birthday. We can’t celebrate like we wish, of course… we’ll make up for it when we can all be together again.

Michael's 9th birthday

(And how can I have a 26-year-old? Of course, I know it’s possible considering I have a rather momentous birthday coming next week but HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! Just yesterday he was running around the house with a cowboy hat on acting like Woody from Toy Story and now he's got a job and an apartment and a wife. Time flies.)

So, that’s what’s up with us. Lots of learning new normals and figuring out how to live within them.

I just hope this snow that’s falling on April 22 is not Michigan’s new normal. I am not interested in living with that!

Snow on the top of our parking deck. In April. Of course.

The fortune cookie was right

Y’all. It has been a crazy month. Crazy.

Here’s the big news: After working for General Motors for 35 years, Sean’s hanging up the slide rule and coming home.

Sean’s last day at GM was July 1. Technically, he’s on the payroll until August 1 because he’s using all his vacation days this month but he’s not answering emails or phone calls or worrying about work for the first time ever.

Two of our favorites! Mary and Liz.

You might be thinking, “Wow! I didn’t know Sean was retiring!” Well, don’t feel too badly because we didn’t either until just over a month ago.

A backstory: in January, GM went through a bit of downsizing and Sean was moved from his job at one plant to a completely different job at the other plant here in Lansing. He went from working four 12-hour days to six 12-hour days. We were thankful to the powers-that-be in the two Lansing plants who made this happen, because it kept Sean in town and at his same level. He knew plenty of people who were out of jobs and even more who were demoted, so we were very grateful for this provision.

However, the job he was assigned is the job he had attempted to avoid his entire career. It’s a job that he’s not best suited for and when he realized what was happening, he said we’d give it six months and evaluate at that time.

It took about three months for Mr. Glass-Half-Full to realize this job was turning him into Mr. Glass-Half-Empty. The hours were crazy, there was talk of him going on 3^rd shift and the stress of this position really got to him.

Great friend and boss, Jeff.

What does stressed-out Sean look like? It looks like him tailgating people. Y’all, that’s how I drive. I’m the driver who does not believe the journey is the point. Getting there is the point. Sean is the complete opposite. Trust me when I say in our nearly 27 years of marriage Sean has NEVER tailgated anyone, not even in crazy Atlanta traffic when I’d be steaming that people were cutting in front of him. He lives by the Three Second Rule. He is the calmest, safest driver I know. And all that changed. He began accelerating quickly and braking hard. And he rode people’s bumpers. I actually started holding onto the door handle just like I did when the kids were learning to drive.

In March/April we started talking about finding something else in GM. But there weren’t any open doors. By May we’d tossed around the R word and by June, he told his boss he planned to retire July 1.

So, trust me when I say we were as surprised by this as everyone else.

We went for Chinese food just before we made the decision to retire. I don’t know who writes the fortune cookie fortunes but boy howdy did this one hit home:

Life will soon become interesting

That, my friends, is what you call an understatement.

Friends from Lansing Delta Township, Sean's last workplace with GM. Ian (second from left) is Sean's last boss. Sean got to know Luke (third from left) when he first moved up to Michigan in 2005. Sean has always appreciated his friendship. 

I got there a little late...

Just do it

It’s graduation time! Some of my friends are seeing their first-borns graduate from high school, and that brings with it all kinds of emotions. But others are seeing their babies graduate: take all the feels from the first-born’s graduation, expose them to whatever that bomb thing was that turned Carol Danvers into Captain Marvel (a story line I’m still not sure about), multiply that by a zillion and you almost scratch the surface of the crazy emotions you’ll have when you see your baby pick up that diploma.

That could just be me.

For you soon-to-be-empty nesters, be warned: when your baby moves out, you might do something crazy. Like redo the kitchen. Or re-purpose her bedroom into an office. Or get new carpet.

Or sell your house and move into an apartment. Because why just redo one room when you can sell them all?

When Rebecca moved into her apartment last fall, our house just seemed too empty. Heck, it didn’t seem it – it was too empty. What did we need with all that space for just the two of us? Besides, each time I’d go into the basement and see all that stuff we’d accumulated over our 26 years of marriage, I’d have heart palpitations. It seemed like this would be a good time to have a major purge.

Here’s something you should know about me: I am a major procrastinator. Oh, I put up a good front, looking all responsible, but unless I have a deadline, I am all kinds of distracted. That basement purge I was thinking about was never going to happen without an outside force moving it/me forward. So when I heard the real estate market was hot in DeWitt, I thought I’d found my outside force! If we sold the house, I’d have to clean out the basement.

I got all excited about selling and we started thinking about where we’d go next. And this fun apartment building caught our eye. And the thought of not doing yard work or dealing with snow gave me all kinds of warm fuzzies. And it would give us some freedom to explore what to do with our theater company.

We took the plunge and put the house on the market.

And it sold the first weekend.

And the new owners wanted occupancy in three weeks.

Talk about a deadline.

Twenty-six years of accumulated stuff all over our house had to be sorted. Decisions had to be made. Keep? Sell? Donate?

We cleared out our house in those three weeks like a bad furniture salesman: Everything had to go, go, go! Sean was a rock star - he worked like crazy and gave this procrastinator the shorter deadlines she needed to really make things happen. We got a storage unit for what I couldn’t quite part with (like my beloved kitchen table with indents of the Babe Ruth paper and multiplication facts) and some things the girls might still need, but we went from a 3,000 square foot, 5 bedroom house to 900 square foot, 2 bedroom apartment.

In. Three. Weeks.

And that, my friends, is the only way this procrastinator could have moved.

The fact that the deal fell through two days before closing but after we’d moved… well, more on that later.

To all you soon-to-be empty nesters, remember this: you may feel the need to do something major when the rooms of your house echo. You may think of all kinds of things you can do now that you’re the only one in the house. You may even think of moving.

And everyone's going to say, "Don't do anything rash. Take some time. Breathe."

But here's what I say: Make the plans to do whatever crazy thing you’re thinking of. Because why the heck not? The kids might not be thrilled that things are changing (sorry, Rebecca!) but this is no time to sit back and rest on the memories. Time to make new ones. I say that even after our deal fell through. Talk about new memories...

Besides, you just might find the motivation you need to clean out the basement.

This is what sold us - we love all the windows! Unfortunately, the girl didn't come with the apartment.

The kitchen, obviously before moving in.

The view right now.

I'm thankful for the engineer who drew this to scale so I could figure out where to put our furniture. He's a keeper.

Goodbye Prince Eric

Here’s the thing about having a theater company: inevitably you end up with crazy stuff all over the place. Costumes, props, scores, tap shoes, programs – they wind up in your purse, your car, your house. All those things have been in my backseat at one point or another.

But the weirdest thing that’s found its way home with me is the head of Prince Eric, who has been living on a table in my entryway for the last three months. 

See, this past January we produced The Little Mermaid – it was a huge success and we had a blast working on it. But when the final curtain fell, we were left with gobs of, well, stuff. Costumes, props, scores, tap shoes, programs. Thanks to amazing friends and volunteers, most of the items were put where they belonged. But the bust of Prince Eric, which was used in Ariel's grotto scene, was rented from a local theater company and it was my job to return him.

Between missed calls and lost emails, the director of the other theater company and I couldn’t seem to connect. So, Prince Eric just hung out in our entryway.

Prince Eric greeted all our guests. Some noticed him. Some ignored him. Sean wondered if Eric was ever going to be returned. But the longer Eric was there, the more attached I became. Eric hung out right by my key hook so each time I left I’d give him a little pat on the head, and each time I’d come back, he was right there to welcome me home.

Thankfully I didn’t start talking to him, because that would have been a little worrisome…

Finally, last week the director and I connected and arranged a date for me to return Prince Eric. I bundled him up in the front seat and went to our rendezvous spot. Dawn was glad to have him back and I was glad to return him to her car’s backseat. She had two bags of costumes that she wedged him between – man, I cannot believe how much theater stuff can accumulate in a car! – and off they went.

He was so sad he couldn't even watch me drive.

 When I returned home, there was no one there to greet me as I hung up my keys.

Sean came home that night and said, “I love how the table looks now!” Eric was barely gone an afternoon and Sean was ready to redecorate. And by redecorate I mean by not have anything on any flat space in our entire world, especially not my piles. But that's another story...

Goodbye, Prince Eric! Your spot is clear for now. But only until I find an acceptable replacement.

I’m sure Sean will be thrilled.

Reboot #2

Today is my 49^th birthday. I am well over the hill and quickly sliding down to the other side. The way that time speeds up with each passing year is nuts. And I’m officially old because I said that.

It’s crazy to think I’m past middle age. I thought I’d be middle aged at 60 – because math is not my strong suit. But once reality sets in and you find out the average life expectancy for women is 84, you realize you peaked at 42 and it’s been all downhill ever since.

So to all you 41 year olds: enjoy your last year on that side of the hill!

With my doom racing towards me, I’ve thought about how I want to spend the second half of the Christy Show. Obviously, I want to spend time with loved ones. I want to travel. I want to do all the thing old people say they want to do.

(One thing I don’t want to do is cook. I really want to be done cooking. Sean doesn’t want that to be part of the Sean Show so we’re in negotiations about that one.)

But something else I want to do is attempt to restart my little corner of the internet. It’s been 360 days since I last posted here. Almost a year since I wrote anything other than emails. There are lots of reasons why I stopped and I’ve just spent two hours writing about them, thinking that was going to be my re-boot post. After getting them all down, I realized it’s really not all that important to post why I stopped. Knowing why I want to restart seems like more valuable info. And those reasons get back to why I started in the first place: because I like to write and my family seemed to like what I wrote.

So here's to trying again.

Much has happened since I last posted and I’m looking forward to writing about it all. But I thought I’d start with this little clip from April 27, 2018. Three dear friends, Joanna, Sarah and Margie, went with me to an Amy Grant concert to celebrate my birthday. They had the brilliant idea to write Amy Grant’s tour manager to ask her to wish me happy birthday during the show:

Thanks to Joanna for letting her know where I was!

The number of times I’ve wished to hear something like that from AG is incalculable. But in God’s perfect timing, He knew exactly when I needed it most. And last April was definitely that time. 

This good Southern girl wrote thank yous to her friends, but not to the tour manager, Brooks Parker, who made that possible. Here’s hoping he sees this! Thanks so much, Brooks. And to Amy, too, of course. 

There’s more to share about that and I will – please, it’s Amy Grant. Wild horses couldn’t stop me from revisiting this. But I also want to write about becoming empty nesters and selling our house and moving into an apartment and starting a theater company and parenting adult-ish children and Amy moving to Georgia and Rebecca moving into an apartment and us getting a new daughter by way of Michael’s marriage… A lot has happened in the last 360 days.

But today, I just have to get this reboot started. Here’s hoping it’s not a fluke - and that I remember how to work this thing!

That's a wrap

Eighteen years ago, when I had Rebecca, I thought, I had all kinds of time. Like 18 years’ worth of time. And I thought those 18 years would take 18 years. But they actually took, like, 18 seconds. Because I swear to you, yesterday I had that child and today she’s graduating from high school.

What. The. Heck.

Rebecca is my last one to graduate. The Duffy Homeschool is done. If you had told me five years ago that this day would come, I wouldn’t have believed you. I mean, I would have believed you in theory; but as we slogged through math and science and spelling and writing, I would have assured you we’d never finish.

And yet, here we are. Done.

The girl is graduating.

Amy Grant wrote Missing You when one of her sister’s kids left for college. It 100% describes my feelings about this day:

Your smile lights up a room like a candle in the dark

It warms me through and through

And I guess that I had dreamed we would never be apart

But that dream did not come true

And missing you is just a part of living

And missing you feels like a way of life

I'm living out the life that I've been given

But baby I still wish you were mine

I am thrilled to have a front row seat to her life. I can’t wait to see all she’ll do and be. But dang I’m going to miss her.

Rebecca Hope, we love you so much! You are a gift from God and our family wouldn’t be the same without you!

Time's up

Here’s the thing about parenting: you eventually get timed out of the job. And my time is running really, really short. 

My baby turns 18 today.

When I was in the middle of changing diapers and midnight feedings and potty training and carpooling to piano lessons/youth group/soccer practice/dance rehearsals I couldn’t conceive of a time I wouldn’t do those things. Because when you’re in the trenches, you keep your head down and do the next thing that has to be done. You don’t look up much. And when you do, that 18^th birthday looks far, far away.

But the milestones have a way of sneaking up on you.

I knew this one was coming, but things have been pretty busy around these parts. Sean and I have been in the trenches of starting a theater company and running a show. Which I so wanted to do so that Rebecca could be in one more musical with her Dad at the baton. But the curtain closed a few weeks ago and my head popped out of the trench and here we are: Big 1-8.

When we asked her how she felt about turning 18, she said, “Now I can buy lottery tickets and cigarettes.” Ah, she’s a laugh a minute, that baby of mine.

Once a mom, always a mom. I’ll always be her mom. But my role is changing, and we’ll have to navigate yet another new normal.

I was with a mom of young children last night and she said, “As soon as we think we have things figured out, they go and change something on us!”

If that is not the story of parenthood, I don’t know what is. 

Happy birthday to my dear Rebecca! We love you so much!