Tag Archives: sentimental

Jul6

Mama’s Girl

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Mama’s Girl
When I got home from work on Monday there was a package at the door.  This isn’t unusual because my husband gets a lot of packages delivered to the house for work.  However, this time it was for me and it was from my Mom.   I opened the box and it made me cry. This is what was inside.  She has this set of bowls and when she brought something to my house in one of them I told her I liked it. So being the thoughtful person she is, she went out and got me a set and sent them.  The bowls didn’t make me cry though, her note did.   “Life is going way too fast for me. I wish we could spend more time together. Reading your blog has made me feel closer to you. You are very talented. You are in my prayers every day.”
 
Her letter made me cry because I am 47 years old and my mother still worries about me and takes her concerns to the heavens every night. I cried because I miss her too.  I know people who live a lot further than an hour away from their loved ones so I shouldn’t complain, but sometimes that distance feels enormous. I cried because I am touched she is reading my blog and that it makes her feel closer to me. I cried because my whole life I have always wanted to make her happy and have her approval.  I know that I’ve done a lot of things over the years that broke her heart.  I have wandered away from the beliefs that are still very much a part of her life. I don’t visit as much as I should. I don’t call as often as I need to. I am not the world’s best daughter.
 
 I am however a very lucky daughter. My mother showed me by example how to be a survivor.  She taught me that life is ten percent what happens to you and ninety percent how you handle it. She told me that when something bad happens to us the only choice we have is to pick ourselves up and go on. That advice has gotten me through some heart breaking experiences of my own.  I can’t say how many times I’ve opened my mouth and her words come tumbling out. I guess one day my children will do the same.
 
Mine wasn’t an easy childhood. I think my mother still suffers guilt for the things we went without. I wish she wouldn’t.  The intangible things she did give us far outweigh anything material that we didn’t have. I grew up singing a hymn in chuch that goes:
 
There is beauty all around
When there’s love at home;
There is joy in ev’ry sound
When there’s love at home.
Peace and plenty here abide,
Smiling sweet on ev’ry side.
Time doth softly, sweetly glide
When there’s love at home.
Love at home, love at home;
Time doth softly, sweetly glide
When there’s love at home
 
My mother took every word of this song seriously.  She did not tolerate meanness or teasing among us kids.  We were to love one another whether we liked it or not. Her insistance on family harmony has resulted in adult siblings who love each other deeply and are there for each other no matter what.  That is an accomplisment to be proud of.
 
I’ve been saying since I started writing this blog that I was doing it for my grandchildren.  I figured telling my stories and sharing my sometimes odd outlook on life would be something that could carry me in to the future.  What I didn’t take in to account was how sharing these stories would also take me back. Back to my childhood, back to the people and places that formed me. And when I look back, the one constant, the rock of my life has been my sweet mother.
 
Thank you for always being there Mom. Thank you for your example, for the lessons, for the prayers and for the bowls. 
 
I love them.
Jun27

Good Mom

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Good Mom
Dear Daughter,
Have I told you lately what an awesome mother I think you are?  After spending some extended time with your son recently I am amazed at how intelligent, well adjusted and happy he is.  I think that is in large part because of you.  You are such a good Mom. 
What I see you do so much better than I ever did is take every day moments and make them learning experiences.  Just the other day you guys went to the park and flew a kite.  You talked to him about wind and how it was necessary to lift the kite in to the sky.  You showed him how to run to get the kite off the ground.  He thought you guys were just playing and having fun but you were teaching him a science lesson.  I’ve heard you talk to him about nutrition and math and how things work.  You read to him all the time and answer his endless questions.   It’s not just the numbers and letters and shapes you’ve taught him that impress me.  It’s that you teach him about being nice and sharing and having compassion.  You are teaching him about character and integrity and he is only three years old. When the time comes, his kindergarten teacher is going to be very grateful to you for giving him such an amazing head start.
Sometimes I look back at pictures taken when you were little and I’m amazed at how young and exhausted I look.   I had two babies within a year and I was barely twenty years old.  I was overwhelmed and tired.  I remember I used to take you and your brother in the bedroom to play and I would lie down on the floor in front of the door.  I always started out playing with you but I knew that if I fell asleep you would have to climb over me to get out and I would wake up.  I relied heavily on my mother for advice and help.  If it wasn’t for her and the fact that you and Nick were both such good babies I may not have survived. 
Parenting is a “learn as you go” experience.  I made plenty of mistakes when you were younger.  Every Mother makes a mistake now and then.  You’ve heard the story of how I rolled off the bed when I was a baby so my inexperienced and young mother put me back up on the bed only to have me roll off again.  One of my biggest mistakes was when you fell out of bed in the middle of the night and hurt yourself.  I think you were about four at the time.  You were crying and crying that your arm hurt and it didn’t seem like anything was broken so after a quick examination and some children’s Tylenol I sent you back to bed.  The next morning your shoulder was swollen and you could barely move your arm.  A trip to the emergency room confirmed my worst fear that you had broken your collar bone.  You had broken a bone and I made you go back to bed.  For months I felt like the worlds worst mother. You had to wear this hideous vest thing for 8 weeks but you took it in stride and didn’t let it change your happy nature.  Even this picture says so much about who you are.  You weren’t just showing me your brace, you were modeling it. You have an innate ability to make the most of any situation.   And now with mothering, you have accepted this challenge with gusto.  You aren’t just raising your son, you are growing him in to the best person he can be.

 

Keep up the good work my daughter.  When it gets tough always remember that there is nothing more important than what you are doing.  And when you need a break I’ve got your back.  Mind you I’ll be sending back a child hopelessly spoiled and stuffed with cookies, but that’s MY job and I take it pretty seriously too. 

I have a plaque in the craft room, I’m sure you’ve seen it.  It says “Here’s to good women.  May we know them.  May we be them.  May we raise them.”   I sure know a whole lot of good women.  God knows I try every day to be one.  And most importantly, one of the greatest accomplishments of my life is that I’ve raised one.  I think you are amazing.
Love
Mom
Jun24

King of my Heart

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King of my Heart
I haven’t written much about my grandson yet because honestly how do I condense my feelings for this child into three or four paragraphs?  After all he is the reason I started this blog. One day when I'm not around anymore (a very long time from now) he will have this.  The stories I share here are for him.
I’m very lucky because I get to see him regularly. Thank goodness for that because he is like air, water and sunshine to me.  I could not survive without him.  He spent the night last night. My chores didn’t get done. There are still toys on the living room floor.  I slept with little feet digging in to my back and four stuffed animals dogs.  I’ve been up since the sun “woke up” and will probably be in bed by nine.  I don’t care about any of those things.   I was just as disappointed as he was when his mother showed up today. 
I love my children fiercely, but this thing that Ry and I have going on is different. We are best friends in a way that only grandmothers and grandchildren can be.  I don’t even think it has anything to do with me being his mother’s mother.  In fact when I tell him “I am your Mommy’s Mommy” he says “No you aren’t, you are my Grandma, Grandma.”
When he was a baby I would hold him for hours, burying my face in his neck, inhaling his sweetness. When he was a toddler my ears begged for the sound of his laughter.  Now he is three and has found his voice.  The things he says to me bounce around in my head for hours after he has gone.  He told me today that he had something to tell his mother when she got here.  I asked him what he wanted to tell her and he said “I’m going to tell her to turn around and go home without me.”  
 
 
 When he was born he stole my heart and every day I get farther and farther from ever getting it back.
Jun21

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

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Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
A week or so ago, one of my schools had their end of year staff meeting.  Each grade level made a presentation reflecting on the year. Some were funny.  Some were sentimental.   My favorite one was the fifth grade which had each of their students make a poster using only three words to describe their year. They took a picture of each student holding their poster and put all of the pictures together in a slide show.  I don’t know these kids but I laughed and cried like I did.  The pictures and the messages were priceless. Their posters said things like “Ready to shine” and “Good memories forever”.   A few were really funny like the one that said “Did some work” and “I’m outta here”.  The most memorable one for me was the immigrant child with the poster that said “Finally I’m Free”.   
This got me to thinking about what my reflection poster would say about this last year.  This is what I came up with.  

 

Most of my life I’ve been uncomfortable with change. I have craved stability and sameness.  Maybe it was my tumultuos childhood, maybe it’s just the way I’m wired but change has always been a little bit scary.  So scary, that I stayed in an unhappy marriage for way too long.  There is comfort in our daily routines and knowing what to expect.  I like feeling in control.  In fact I’ve been accused of being a control freak. Not sure I’d go that far (ok, maybe I am) but I like my little stable world. 

The last few years however I’ve had to reexamine my thoughts on change and acceptance.  I have learned that there is very little in life I can actually control.  A series of health problems, family tragedies and personal hardships put me in a tailspin.  As I struggled to make sense of my life that seemed to be spinning out of control I latched on to this familiar saying. In fact I printed this and put it strategically around my house and at work.  While I give a lot of credit for helping me deal with painful life experiences to a wonderful counselor, I also have to give credit to this simple powerful little prayer.  If you are familiar with the origins of this verse you’ll know that these words change lives.  Over time my attitude began to change. I found myself saying "it is what it is" more often. My whole life I'd been a worrier until the day I realized worrying was like rocking in a rocking chair.  It'll pass the time but it won't get you anywhere.  I conciously decided to stop worrying about things I couldn’t control and to take control of things that I could…like my attitude, my health, and my finances.  I had to learn to accept things as they were. I had to accept that when someone else says "you're not the boss of me" they are absolutely right.  I am only the boss of me.  My thoughts, my feelings, my actions and responses are the only ones I control.  What a difficult thing this has been for this old hard head to learn.

 

A year ago I was really struggling with arthritis in my knees.  Taking care of a very large high school was taking a toll. I had toyed with the idea of asking for a reassignment but fear held me back.  I had been at the same school for seven years.  That’s a long time.  I had friends there.  I was comfortable there.  That’s when I had to ask myself if I was truly living by the words that had become my motto.  

As it turns out I did change schools and it has been a good thing.  Everyone says “the grass isn’t always greener on the other side” but you know what…sometimes it IS. Sometimes change is good.  Sometimes not knowing what might happen next in your life is exciting.  I tell my son all the time “If nothing changes, then nothing changes.”  I’m usually telling him this as I lecture him about getting a better job and informing him that he can’t live in my basement forever but hey, it applies. As someone once said…We can’t sail on to new challenges if we’re afraid to lose sight of the shore. 
So my reflection for this last year is "Don't fear change." because seriously…if the only thing you change on a regular basis is your underwear we need to talk.
 
“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” -C.S. Lewis
 
 

 

Jun19

Pickles

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Pickles
This is a jar of homemade pickles in my fridge that Joel made.

This is the date on the calendar when we can open and eat the jar of homemade pickles that Joel made.

This is a cucumber grown by Joel like the ones he used in the jar of homemade pickles in my fridge.

 

This is the plant that grew the cucumber like the ones in the jar of homemade pickles that Joel made.

This is the garden thoughtfully created, containing the plant the grew the cucumber like the ones in the jar of homemade pickles that Joel made.

 These are some flowers that Joel planted for me at the same time that he planted his garden of tomatoes and cucumbers so that he could make homemade pickles like the ones in the jar in my fridge.


 

This is Joel planning and planting his garden so that he can grow tomatoes and cucumbers like the one in the jar of homemade pickles in my fridge that he made.
 
 
 
  
This is what I plan to cook for dinner tomorrow when we get to open the jar of homemade pickles in the fridge that Joel made.

I also plan to make this to go with the dinner I'll make tomorrow when we open the pickles that Joel made.

 

This is me with Joel and I'm happy because in addition to making me pickles he does lots of other things for me too. He makes things I find on Pinterest.  He rubs my feet.  He does our laundry. He makes my drink at dinner.  He puts gas in my car on Sunday nights.

I don't care what those pickles taste like tomorrow.  My husband is a  keeper.

Jun8

Engaged to be Married.

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Engaged to be Married.

We've all heard the saying “A son is a son til he takes a wife; a daughter’s a daughter the rest of her life.”   As the mother of two sons I have issues with this statement and now that my oldest is engaged to be married I like it even less. It’s true that my daughter and I remain very close and in fact having the shared experiences of being a wife and mother may have made us even closer.  But who says I can’t stay close to my boys too?  Why is a man supposed to only have room in his life for his wife? Doesn’t whoever wrote this understand that my sons wouldn’t be who they are today if it weren't for their mother?  I didn’t pour my heart and soul in to these boys only to see them on holidays and at the occasional family gathering.  I pray my sons’ future wives will see me as friend not foe.  

 
I don’t worry about Alex.  Everyone knows he is a Mamma’s boy and the youngest.  He even refers to himself as my baby.  As in, “You would never kick me out of the house, I’m your baby.” (Future writings will reveal that he was oh so wrong!) His girlfriend and I feel like team mates on some special project called “Operation Alex.” Working together she and I might be able to slap him in to something that resembles an adult some day. 
 
Things are different with Nick.  I don’t get to see him as often as I’d like and the last few years there has been a bit of a distance between us.  It’s nothing deliberate on either of our parts.  He’s just all grown up and off living his life.  Sure we had some rough spots when he was a teenager but who hasn’t?  I’d love to see him more often but we both rest easy in the knowledge that our love for one another is infinite.  
 
He has been in a very committed and all consuming relationship for the last three years.  I told him a few months ago that if he planned on getting engaged I would appreciate the courtesy of knowing about it ahead of time.  I didn’t want to get a text message from his girlfriend (the usual method of news delivery) informing me that he had proposed. So a few weeks ago he asked me to lunch and told me he had the ring and he was going to ask.  It’s hard to describe how I felt. We love Katelyn and they are a good match but I also really miss the little boy he once was. I asked him if he was happy and his response was “yeah, I really am.”  What else can I ask for?  Isn't that what we wish for our kids when we are knee deep in raising them?  He knows it’s not going to be easy. Their situation is fraught with special circumstances.  The last three years haven’t been easy but he is going in to this with his eyes wide open. Marriage is hard work and he has seen me fail at it with his dad.  It takes commitment, dedication and sacrifice, but if anyone is loyal and loving enough to make it work, that would be my Nick.  Congratulations Son.  You got this. 
 
 
Jun5

What the what?

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What the what?
My son has this tattoo on his forearm.   
Why you ask? Why would he do that? That’s a question I’ve been wrestling with for over a year.
The short story is he’s an idiot.
The long and true story is that he wants to duplicate the tattoos his cousin Bobby had including this one.  I told him that just because Bobby had it doesn’t make it a good idea but I’m not sure it’s right to speak ill of the dead.
Bobby was killed three years ago in a drunk driving accident.  His friend lost control of the vehicle they were riding in and wrapped it around a tree.  They were both killed instantly.  It remains a tragedy of unspeakable proportion. My brother lost his only child.  My son lost his childhood best friend.  He was only twenty one.
So Alex wants to memorialize his beloved cousin by recreating his tattoos.  He never wants to forget someone that he loved.  I understand that.  I respect it.  I am not against tattoos but this one has been hard to swallow.  I think because it is offensive to many people, it’s hard for me to accept that it’s now a permanent part of his body.  When my brother saw it for the first time he literally said “WTF Alex?”
It’s pretty common knowledge what WTF stands for.  Even my mother knows. In my quest to make this go down easier I’ve convinced myself that there are lots of other things it can stand for.  What do you think of these?
Why the Frown?
Where’s the Food?
Well that’s Fabulous
What’s that Friend?
Wow that’s fun
Welcome to Facebook
Write to File
What's This For?
Who the Freak?
Where's the Fridge?
Where's the Fish?
What's This Foolishness
Where's the Fire?
We’re Tasting Frosting
Work Time Fun
Welcome to Finland
 
As much as I’d like to think it stood for something else I know in heart what it really means.  It means my nephew is gone way too soon.  It means my son has to deal with his loss in the best possible way he knows how.  And when I honestly think about it I’m inclined to say WTF myself.  In this situation….what else can you say?