Saving time

I just read an article in a magazine about organizing one's life. Each month at least one of the three or four magazines I read regularly has an article dedicated to time saving. Why is that? Is there a bank, which is unknown to me, where time is stored for the future? Does one deposit seconds, minutes and hours or maybe days into an account? Will those deposits draw interest? Sign me up!

Aging has many benefits. Not the least of which is more time on your hands. The kicker is that you have fewer ways to spend it! There are no more soccer games, baseball games, carpools, bake sales, PTA, piano lessons, nor troop feedings. You can actually eat a meal in peace. Going to a grandchild's soccer game is a walk in the park since you are not the one who had to make sure the uniform was clean and the shin guards were in the bag. Now you can buy the bake sale items instead of baking them! Hooray? Not so much.

The same is true of money. Believe it or not, even though you have a little more there are fewer things that you need or want! What a bummer! Years ago I dreamed of being able to go to the grocery store, say, and buy whatever struck my fancy. Well my fancy has failed me because half the stuff I can now afford, there is no one to eat it! The grand-darlings are reaping the benefits of the aforesaid fancy, however. Ice Cream for breakfast anyone?

All young mothers should treat themselves and their families more often. Don't try to shave too much time off the everyday stuff. Instead revel in the glow of ordinary days because the sad truth is that there really is no time bank. This I know for sure!

Newspapers and coffee....mmmmm

Today my newspaper wasn't on the steps by 7 A.M., nor was it there yesterday. I tried to be understanding, so I waited until almost 8 to call the circulation department. The department was obviously closed, so I punched all the right numbers in answer to the automated questions. The newspaper arrived 30 minutes later. OK, so what happened?

My thinking is that since newspapers are becoming obsolete, newspaper carriers are also. Gone, I suppose, are the days when boys or girls could deliver newspapers on their bikes and get paid enough to save up for a car. There still must be an anonymous person who delivers the paper; I just don't see him or her. Right?

There was a time when I was way too busy with the morning ritual of getting everyone taken care of and out the door for school, that I didn't have but a minute to scan the paper while I drank a cup of coffee. I also confess that getting myself out of bed to do all the weekday tasks was difficult. Being a life-long insomniac, caused me to over-sleep many a morning! At any rate, the newspaper went unread some days and I never gave it  a thought.

Now, I can't seem to make myself stay asleep past six thirty or seven o'clock, so I look forward to the leisurely reading of the paper with my steaming mug of coffee. Here's the rub; Now that I have the time, the newspaper has been reduced to a mere shadow of its former self and reading it doesn't require much time at all. Isn't that just the way? I guess I could not renew the subscription and join the gazillions who now get all their news via the Internet, but clicking and typing isn't the same as getting your fingers all smudged-up with newsprint. Don't get me wrong; I love the Internet and my laptop, but please don't take away my newspaper!

Reading has been my salvation for many years. When I was little, my parents were frustrated with my inability to put myself to sleep. In other words, I was wound up all the time. At least that's what my mother said about me. I saw it differently. I just wasn't tired and needed to settle down before sleeping. By the time I had learned to read, weekly trips with my mother to the library were a treat. We'd check out stacks of books and I would read myself to sleep every night. By the time I was a young teenager, I was reading the newspaper every morning with my grandfather. He also introduced my to coffee, but that's another story. Books, newspapers, cereal boxes, recipes.. .. I read everything. In other words; Reading is a vital part of who I am, not just what I like to do.

So, back to the newspaper problem. Will the daily newspaper go the way of transistor radios? I for one hope not. My mornings would never be the same. Now, if I could just get the reading to burn more calories; I'd be thin.

kids/adult kids/moms

While I wasn't looking, my children became adults. Oh they still lapse into their former childish ways sometimes, but for the most part, they are grown-ups now. They work, pay taxes and talk about adult stuff.

Did I think that this would happen? No, never. It's very hard to imagine a time when you talk with adults and realize that they are your offspring, while you are doing homework, arranging carpools, making doctor and dentist visits, kissing scuffed knees, hiding "Santa" gifts, trying to make ends meet (impossible!!), cheering at baseball games (insert any one of a million sports), and just geting through each day without pulling out your hair. How many days did I do all that? The answer is; probably a gazillion. Not once did I have a minute to slow down and think about the real future. By that I mean the one I am living in now. We moms are so busy that there just isn't a minute to stop and not only smell the roses, but actually pick some for an bouquet.

When I reflect on the me of then all I see is the harried homemaker rushing to get it all done before some mysterious deadline. I am a perfectionist to the core, so many times I wasted precious time doing all the stuff that could have waited. Actually, most of the crap that I fretted over could have waited until, well, until now!

My children really didn't give a fig that I disinfested all their toys, the kitchen counters (daily), the tubs and anything else that might have gotten in the way of their sacred health. No one noticed that I pinched pennies until you could have heard them squeak all the way to Toronto. They didn't notice that I never had a hairdressing appointment, massage, manicure nor pedicure. What did they see way back then? Did they see how much I loved them? Did they feel it? I am no martyr. Being a mom was what I wanted to be and fulfilled me in every way. I hope that they saw that then and still see it now. That will never change. 'Babies" be they two or forty-two will always be their moms' babies.

Getting to know adult children is a blessing as well as a curse. Somtimes you want to stop them from making the same mistakes you made and at other times you are asking yourself when they got so smart! Where did that come from? Did they read it in a book? Did I do that? Memories are fuzzy like that. They get sassy with me when I say something that they think interferes with their judgement. I can't help myself! Making sure that they get the best out of life and make good decisions is  my job. I haven't retired, yet.

Maybe by the time I am really old (old is getting older every year), I will stop being the mom of the past. Maybe not; old habits really do die hard. In the meantime, kids, watch out! Your mother is and always will be taking care of her babies.

C the B

The old house is clean and waiting. We have spent the last two days getting her ready for the renters. All the cobwebs, dust and sand are gone. The porch has been swept and the fridge cleaned out. There remains nothing to remind them that we were here at all. All personal items are banished to the owners' closet. Sad, isn't it?

They will discover the sticking kitchen drawer and the toilet that flushes slowly. They will fill the fridge with their food and maybe it will be more exotic than ours. We left the sand toys and balls that were not used this year. I hope their kids enjoy them. The house is wating for them.

What they won't have is the history that we have. I know how the screen on the front door got broken. I know who slept where and who likes the the back bedroom most. We all know who painted the birds on the stairs. The ugly mugs in the kitchen make me laugh every summer, but no one wants to toss them out. One of the slipcovers is currently being held together with duct tape.

The owners' closet isn't locked, but I hope that the renters will respect our privacy by not opening it. My cherry mug is in there as is the new one I bought for my other half. The rest of the stuff looks like a photo album of times past. Cast off baby toys and other special things including our signature cups with the cottage number on them are in there too. That stuff as well as the ancient furniture is waiting for the family, our family,  to return. The cottage waits for another summer.

We are sitting on the porch reading the Sunday paper. We do this every week; just somehwere else. Here is where we slow down and listen to "the worms breathing", he says. The house is quiet because our guests have left. The children are not here this year and that makes both of us sad and more than a little wistful. Watching the grandchildren repeat the rituals of this place is what we miss the most. There is a hole in my heart.

It's been a strange time without our family around us; not a ritual I'd like to repeat. This place, our summer home, is lonely without them. No amount of beauty can replace the beauty of family. I can honestly say that I miss even the sand and melted ice cream! The mess of the family stuff is not something we ever anticipate missing, but there it is. Families are messy. Feelings get hurt, wet towels get left all over the place and ice pops melt into puddles on the porch, but we are together and that, my friends is messy.

Today I am going down to the beach. I may need a sweater because here in this place, the sun has come but not yet the warmth. I will gather some stones for my garden at that other place we call home. They will remind me of the time we spent here this summer. I will scatter the stones like we are scattered this year.

Gathering stones from the water is messy business, but not as messy as families can be. I miss the messy family and my heart is a stone in my chest.

Little boys

He smells a little like rusty nails and soap. Today he dressed in his Batman pjs, strapped on the new pistol (a Yankee one! more on that later), and donned his cape. He looked for tall the world like a confused soldier caught between being the caped crusader and Wyatt Earp!
After my trip to Wallyworld, he is now the proud owner of a "supersoaker". The water gun with the large tank is much better than the smaller version purchased two days ago, which needed refilling every 2 minutes. We do tend to underestimate the power of a 5-year old!
Now for the pistol story. We made a trip to Old Salem yesterday for a walk through the restored village and to see the Guinnea hens roaming the streets. Nevermind that it was hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell! The hens must have agreed because they were no where to be seen. Undaunted, we moved onto the water pump which used to be the highlight of all trips to the village. The pump was dry! So it was on to the shop which I told him had the kinds of toys that little boys played with 200 hundred years ago before WII and video games. Did he want the pop gun or the wodden wagon? No sir, he spotted the Civil War pistols with holsters. Great, I thought. What a great time to celebrate Southern pride. Buying him a "Johnny Reb" gun with the "CS" on the belt would do it! Did he want that one, no. He chose the "Yankee" version with "US" on the holster! What was that about? The Rebel one was superior in my opinion and I pointed out, naming all the men he knew, that we were Rebels, not Yankees. He wasn't having it, so the Yankee one it is now in bed with him, right next to his heroes, Batman and Buzz Lightyear. Explaining the buy to his mother was another thing and to add insult to injury, the offending item is a YANKEE PISTOL!

Also in included in the Wallyworld purchases are two packs of caps for the weapon. Don't tell anyone, but I think that they were made in China.

Mother's Day--I wouldn't change a thing

This weekend we celebrated me. In a note on Facebook one of our sons posted a thank-you and some very nice words about his mother (me) and his mother-in-law. I responded with tears in my eyes that I only had one ambition; to be a good mother. I hope that he reads it and understands that I didn't mean that I never wanted to do or be anything else. Motherhood happened and there was absolutely no turning back. There was a time when I thought that my mother was the greatest mom ever, but boring. She was the "June Cleaver" of the neighborhood from her perfectly ironed apron to her comfortable "at home " shoes.  With a smear of lipstick on, she'd meet Daddy at the backdoor as he came home from work. Next, after everyone had washed our hands and faces, we sat down to a perfectly orchestrated meal including a homemade dessert. I'm not kidding! Stay with me here, we did this every single day. My angst-ridden teenage self thought that her style was boring and mundane. Check out those very grown-up words, gleaned from the latest (at the time) vocabulary list. The term "role model" was far into the future and besides, I didn't see what she did as modeling. Mother told me that one day I'd need to learn some homemaking skills, but her words fell on my deaf ears.

Fast forward to my falling in love/dating/marriage/ after the honeymoon days. Oops, I should have paid more attention. I was forced to learn all those things that that my mother had warned me about, but that is a whole other post for another time.

Despite the cooking, cleaning, laundry, and just general wifey stuff; I did sometimes work outside the home. Not a career, mind you, just a means to an end. The end in our case having a little extra "pin money". That pin money sometimes fed us or paid a bill, but we could never depend on it, so when it came, it was a bonus. Sometimes the kids demeaned my stay-at-home status. They can be excused, however, because when it came time for a mom to bake cupcakes for the bake sale, drive for the field trip, organize the book sale, or help in any capacity at their school or outside activities, I volunteered or was volunteered for the job. Somewhere along the way, mothering became my career. I wouldn't change a thing.

That career has allowed me the opportunity to see a child light-up like the scoreboard at a baseball game when he or she finally "got it" after a tutoring session. Some of the kids would never have been able to go to the zoo, for instance, without career moms doing the driving. Cupcakes have become quite trendy, I see. We career moms were on the cutting edge years ago! I have cupcake pans that are older that the pyramids (not really, but that sounded good to say). Hundreds of cupcakes passed through them into the hungry mouths of as many children and a few adults along the way. We career moms have also proctored tests for English as a second language students even we if couldn't speak their language. Most important to me is that I was there for everything my children did, whether they wanted me there or not. I'd like to think that most often they wanted me there. My husband could be called a career dad, because I swear that I can't for the life of me remember his ever wanting to be anywhere more than he wanted to be with our kids and me. His responsibilities to his job could get in the way, but he somehow managed to be there for all the important events, no matter what. I wouldn't change a thing.

The young women of today are career women. They have broken the glass ceiling and are earning big bucks and slaying dragons at work. They have ipads, iphones, Twitter, Facebok, tele-commuting, tele-conferencing and wifi at the Starbucks. It's not a bad thing, mind you, to be so connected. My daughter and daughters-in-law are working mothers. They somehow get it done and manage to post pictures of the grand-darlings on Facebook so that their tech-challenged parents can see them. I admire them. They are all good mothers. They will make mistakes too just like I did and my mother before me. I can't imagine the pressure of a job as well as a home to manage! I wouldn't change a thing.

Who is baking the cupcakes? Who is organizing the book sale? Do schools even have those anymore or can a parent just offer to buy some books to be downloaded to a student's e-reader? Are all the cupcakes bakery-made? Who helps with the tutoring? It  bothers me that the young mothers of today's world are missing some joy, but it will be up to them to figure it out. I have been there and done that to replay an adage. I wouldn't change a thing.

I never set out to be the best mother on the planet. Learning along the way and trying always to be as good a mother as I could be was my only real goal. From the moment I found out that I was carrying that first child; Being a mother was my chosen career. It is one that I am proud of and still find joy in. I pray for all mothers whether they work outside the home or not. I pray for God to give them the courage and strength to handle whatever challenges their kids face. I pray that they will have the dignity and grace to see their kids through when they fail or are rejected. I pray that they can rejoice in their kids' successes and hold their hands and hearts when they are sad or dejected. My mother prayed these things for me, I know that in my heart. I was a good mother, I know that too. After all, I did have a good role model. I wouldn't change a thing.