He smells just like sunshine, or at least what I think sunshine must smell like. We moved through our week of "Tiki camp" at the speed of light. He wanted me to cook with him, but changed his mind. We travelled to Mississippi and he rode, yes really, two horses. On one he even managed to ride bare-back! His Tiki was amazed as she watched with a lump in her throat. We swam; he ate catfish for the first time; we "muggled". We picked up his baby sister so that she could make brownies with us. She cracked eggs and "I stir" the batter. The museum held us in its grasp with the Fed Ex plane which he "flew" for me. He climbed the climby thing so high that I feared he might freeze there in the upper region and I'd have to get help to reach him. He swam down so deep at Patty's pool that he touched the drain. He stopped my heart many times during our week of "camp". Whether my heart stopped from fear for his safety or just the love I have for him, I don't know, but stop it did.
Leaving him, his sister and his mommy and daddy is about the hardest thing I do. We all cry and then I drive away. Two hundred miles later, I still cry, but know that Tiki camp can happen again, just not soon enough for Tiki.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Best Friends
Ok, the term "best friend" is a misnomer. Maybe the more important phrase should be "lifetime friend". Best friends shift with life. One minute the friend knows everything about you and ditto you to her, and then bam; life changes and you have to look her number up to tell her something important.
Lifetime friends are more rare and precious. They know where the bones are buried, who supplied the shovels and who put the dirt on the casket. I am very lucky to have a few of the lifetime kind in my friend arsenal. I really believe if I asked one of them to take out someone they might do it. That statement was a stretch, but I like to imagine it anyway.
Like tonight for instance; I called up a LTF and told her that Bauchmann would never be elected because she was on national TV today wishing Elvis a happy birthday! Today, by the way, is August 16th, 2011. Anyone with a brain knows that Elvis died on August 16, 1977! The LTF on the line understood right away the lunacy of the remark from Bauchmann, because 34 years ago it was with her that I travelled to Graceland and climbed the wall to see just who (besides us) had come to Memphis to honor The King. The event is etched into my brain along with the night we pushed my mother's car out of the driveway in order to sneak out for a joy ride in a much gentler Memphis of the late '60s. Life with a friend like that is bliss, sisters.
Some people only have memories of friends. The here and now ordinariness of their everyday lives are not worthy enough for sharing. They re-visit their glory days, drink a little wine and go home until the next gathering. I think that is sad. Days with friends should be ordinary as well as extraordinary.
I love that I can see or call my LTF and pick-up right where we left off the last time we talked or saw each other. One LTF has known me and almost everything about me since we were six years old. We don't let pettiness nor miles separate us. That is a LTF.
Is there a message anywhere in this? No, not really. I was just feeling especially low after being back in my growing-up home last week. This time we didn't climb any walls nor push a car out for a sneaky joy ride. What we did was enjoy each other's ordinariness. Oh, there was a, "Who's bossier battle?" which was not resolved by the time I left, but that can wait for another time. With any luck at all we can wage the battle for many more years.
Lifetime friends are more rare and precious. They know where the bones are buried, who supplied the shovels and who put the dirt on the casket. I am very lucky to have a few of the lifetime kind in my friend arsenal. I really believe if I asked one of them to take out someone they might do it. That statement was a stretch, but I like to imagine it anyway.
Like tonight for instance; I called up a LTF and told her that Bauchmann would never be elected because she was on national TV today wishing Elvis a happy birthday! Today, by the way, is August 16th, 2011. Anyone with a brain knows that Elvis died on August 16, 1977! The LTF on the line understood right away the lunacy of the remark from Bauchmann, because 34 years ago it was with her that I travelled to Graceland and climbed the wall to see just who (besides us) had come to Memphis to honor The King. The event is etched into my brain along with the night we pushed my mother's car out of the driveway in order to sneak out for a joy ride in a much gentler Memphis of the late '60s. Life with a friend like that is bliss, sisters.
Some people only have memories of friends. The here and now ordinariness of their everyday lives are not worthy enough for sharing. They re-visit their glory days, drink a little wine and go home until the next gathering. I think that is sad. Days with friends should be ordinary as well as extraordinary.
I love that I can see or call my LTF and pick-up right where we left off the last time we talked or saw each other. One LTF has known me and almost everything about me since we were six years old. We don't let pettiness nor miles separate us. That is a LTF.
Is there a message anywhere in this? No, not really. I was just feeling especially low after being back in my growing-up home last week. This time we didn't climb any walls nor push a car out for a sneaky joy ride. What we did was enjoy each other's ordinariness. Oh, there was a, "Who's bossier battle?" which was not resolved by the time I left, but that can wait for another time. With any luck at all we can wage the battle for many more years.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
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!
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.
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.
Monday, July 25, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
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.
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.
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