Driving Miss Daisy

We own a nursery and landscaping business. I was supposed to work at the hospital last night but the census had gone down a little and I was called off. I was planning to do some mundane housekeeping chores here at home and was happily doing said chores when my mother-in-law (who lives on the nursery property) called and invited us to dinner. I hate to cook and always jump at the chance to eat at my mother-in-law's. Jimmy was already at the "farm" and Austin and I planned to go down around 6 o'clock. I decided around 4 o'clock to just go on down and enjoy the pretty weather walking around the farm.

Once we got there, Austin wanted to give me a ride in the "Gator". He spends a lot of time there with his Grandma when I'm working, so he is quite adept at being the little farm boy. The first thing we did was check in on the new kittens in the barn. I was instantly sorry that I'd neglected to bring my camera. The kittens are about 5 weeks old and Austin has been very patiently waiting for the ok to pick one of them up. Yesterday I told him he could hold them. I don't know if there is anything more precious than watching a child  cuddling a 5 week old kitten under their chin.. He was mesmerized. I was charmed beyond all reason. He was so tender with the little thing. If ever I have missed the perfect photograph, this was it. I must return with my camera and capture this on film.

After playing with the kittens for a while he began begging me to let him take me for a ride on the gator. I have heard him mention lately that he has been driving the gator around the farm, but I thought that meant that his Dad had allowed him to sit on his lap and "steer". Oh no! He's learned to DRIVE the gator. He took great delight in buzzing me up and down between tree rows dodging the irrigation towers. He did an excellent job!! He was so proud of himself. I began to think about how we take so many things in life for granted. How to all of us "grown-ups" driving is just a necessary thing we do. But to a child of 7 it's the ultimate daring thing to do. The look on that child's face as he maintained complete and utter control over that machine and his mother's heart was priceless. And, if I'd had my camera with me as all good mother's should, you'd know exactly what I'm talking about.

Spontaneous Combustion

I am a living volcano!  Eighteen hours out of twenty-four  I'm an active volcano. When I was younger and would hear women talking about this lovely experience I would think that they were over exaggerating. I know better now.

 

Do you remember the flames behind the wizard's curtain in The Wizard of Oz? Have you ever seen the flames flare when your squirt charcoal lighter on charcoal in the grill? Have you ever watched the mushroom of fire when a bomb is dropped? Well, welcome to my reality! This heat starts somewhere in the very center of my body and just explodes in all directions. I can't get out of clothes quick enough when it happens. I swear, sometimes I think you could roast hot dogs and marshmallows on me.

 

I used to be a cold blooded animal. When everyone around me was comfortable, I was freezing. I have more flannel pj's and nightgowns than the law should allow. I am a collector of blankets, polar fleece, and afghans. In  my past life I loved being wrapped up in my flannel and fleece in front of a raging fire in the fireplace. How I miss those days.

 

There are  many questions that I want to ask God when I get to heaven. One of them will be; "Why did you design women the way you did?"  I will be eternally grateful that I was allowed to  experience the miracle of having a new life growing inside of me. Giving birth, even though it's excruciatingly painful is an experience I wouldn't have wanted to miss. Having a period every month was not something I counted among the high points of being female. PMS, even though I didn't suffer it's horror like many women I know, was never a fun thing. But, I've gotta tell you these hot flashes are like hell on earth!

 

I am awakened about 12 times a night feeling like someone has set me on fire. I can't even remember the last time I slept through the night. This is very strange for me because I used to be one of those people that slept like the dead. NOTHING could wake me up. It's miserable! After a few minutes of waking up hotter than a firecracker, I get a chill because my skin is so wet from the hot flash. I cover up, settle back down to sleep and usually within a half an hour I'm wideawake again as I throw back the covers and begin stripping. Sometimes my outsides have goose bumps and I feel cold at the same time that my insides feel like molten lava.

 

I wear a scrub jacket at work over my scrub top because I need all the pockets for all the stuff I have to have handy while I  work. Some nights I feel like I'm going to rub blisters on my arms from the friction of putting my jacket off and on. I feel sweaty all the time. There were some nights this winter  when the only relief I could get was to rush outside in the freezing winter cold and just stand there for a few minutes.

 

This is sooooo NOT ME!!  It's getting on my nerves and driving everyone around me crazy. My husband and I used to always disagree about having the windows down in the car when the weather was chilly. I'm married to Grizzly Adams' long lost brother. He's very much an outdoorsman. He has always wanted a little brisk air in the car while he's driving. I'm freezing him to death!!!

 

This has got to end soon! It's making me an insane person.

For All Mothers Everywhere

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up puke laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's okay honey, Mommy's here."

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football , hockey or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand) mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year. And then read it again. "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches, assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good Mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it in her heart? Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our are thoughts for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation...

And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers..

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all. (Author Unknown)

Happy Mother's Day

I love this picture, so I just had to use it here 'cause he's so stinkin' cute!!

Among my most treasured posessions are the handcrafted gifts made for me over the years by my children. As they grew older and the handcrafted gifts ceased coming, I loved the things that they would write to me inside of greeting cards. When Austin came into my life I began to look forward to the little things he would make me in day care and school. Now that he is a big first grader and can read and write the gifts begin to take on even more value to me. There is nothing more precious than a child's sentiments written in their own handwriting and misspelled words make them more the dearer to me.

Mother's Day is Sunday and I have just received my gift from Austin. I worked very late last night so Daddy got him on the bus this morning. He left me a little note trail to find my gift. On the table in the family room he left me a note directing me to go to a different table in the house to find my present. Once there I found the cutest handmade card you ever saw with flowers all over it, wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. But my most favorite gift was a piece of paper with M O T H E R printed down the left side. He made an acronym. I'm going to duplicate it here with the spelling he used:

My Mommy is nice

Old Mommy but nice and funey

Truly funey

Happy mothers day

Ecentric Mom!!

Red flowers are her favorite

I wouldn't take a million dollars for this work of art (he colored diagonal rainbow colors all across it).

And to think that I didn't think he had noticed that I was older than his friend's mothers!!! I asked him when he got home about the word "ecentric". "Austin, do you know what this word means?" "Yes, Mommy, it means crazy!" And then he laughed. And I laughed. Then we had the nicest cuddle and hug.

Mother's don't need gifts on Mother's Day. The  four wonderful people that made me a mother are the greatest gifts in the world.

I know that I'm his Mom and that I might be a little biased. But look at this picture and tell me he's not adorable!!

This was taken yesterday during a little break in the action of his baseball game. My older son, Patrick played college BASEBALL. I have spent thousands of hours watching baseball games. I love every minute of it. It's a little strange to go from college games to machine pitch Little League. Even if you don't have one of your own little ones playing, do yourself a favor and go watch a Little League game. They are so cute! Austin's skills are every bit as good as his brother's were at the same age. I don't know though that he has the same "eat it, breathe it, live it" love of the game that Patrick did. If he doesn't, that's ok (gulp). I'm just loving being at baseball games again. He's having a good time and meeting new friends. Life is good at the ballpark.

  Just One Girls Head Noise UK

The world lost a very special person a couple of weeks ago. I haven't addressed it here because honestly, I feel woefully inadequate to honor her in the manner she deserves. I honestly don't think that I've ever known of a person more selfless than Pam. To say that she inspired me would be an understatement. She made me constantly aware of the person that I wished I could be. She was going through hell on earth and managed to find the positive. She loved with her whole heart. I hope and pray that she knew to the very core of her soul how loved and respected she was. She had hundreds if not thousands praying for her. Her prognosis was never good, she knew that and I think everyone else has known that too. My head knew what her chances were. My heart though, just had to believe that if there was anyone in the world that could receive a miracle, it was Pam. Pam's life ended on Easter Sunday. But the miracle that was Pam will live on for a very long time in those of us that came to know her. I will never forget her or the lessons she taught us for the rest of my life.

 

Pam is beyond our prayers now. But she left two children that she loved with her whole being. My prayers will now be for them. I can't even imagine how bereft they must feel right now. They have Pam's blood pulsing through their veins and they had the fortune of being mothered by her, I have little doubt that her amazing outlook and loving nature will live on in them. As for the rest of us, we must all take what Pam taught us and do our best to live inspired lives. It is the best way I know of to honor her.  

How I threw the Easter Bunny under the bus to save Santa Claus

I am a desperate mother. Some would think it ridiculous the lengths I have gone to so that my children's fantasies remained untarnished. Even I have questioned why a belief in Santa Claus is so terribly important to me. I haven't answered that question for myself with complete satisfaction, perhaps I never will. It's just that to me, having that belief in Santa and all the magic and wonderment that goes with it somehow makes up for the disappointing things in life. It is a small oasis of complete joy and awe that an ordinary life  just needs.

 

As a child, I was so anxious to grow up that I continually questioned everyone I came into contact with on the validity of Santa. I would pretend to certain non family adults that I had been told that there was no Santa hoping that they would slip up and confirm my worst fear. They didn't. But I was relentless. I kept asking and asking. I wonder what it was in me that wanted to burst my own bubble. Finally in exasperation my mother broke down and told me the truth. I was devastated and heartbroken. I don't think I have ever fully forgiven myself for asking or my mother for telling me.

 

In light of the above it's no wonder that I have gone to great lengths to preserve the belief in Santa with my children. When my first three children were little I began the practice of wrapping everything that Santa brought. I made sure that the wrapping paper used for these gifts was completely different than the gifts that "I" bought and wrapped that were under our tree. I went to great trouble making sure that "Santa's" wrapping paper was not seen before OR after Christmas. When I think back on how secretive I was with that wrapping paper even I have to shake my head!! Somewhere along the line of creating Santa for my kids I began to believe in him again. To this day whenever I look at pictures of my children around that time I can get tears in my eyes when I see the look of sheer wonder, excitement and expectation  on their little faces. When my Emily was around 6 years old she began in earnest to get the real scoop on Santa. Like me, she was always anxious to grow up. She didn't just ask me if Santa was real during the Christmas season, she asked me year round. She'd try to catch me off guard and ask in a very grown up way for me to tell her the truth. She was convinced there was no Santa and she wasn't going to rest until I admitted it. I remember the day she wore me down like it was yesterday. I can see the look on her face and I can remember exactly where we stood in my bedroom. She's pulled me into my bedroom and took me to the far side of the room. And she asked me for what was probably the 500th time. "Mommy, tell me the truth, is there really a Santa Claus?" I do not know what possessed me, and I've regretted it ever since but in total exasperation I said in what I remember to be an irritated tone of voice, "No, Emily, there is no Santa Claus! Are you happy now?" The instant it was out of my mouth I regretted. it. I felt like I had stolen all the magic in her world. She, however, seem nonplussed and took it with a grain of salt. Patrick never did ask me. Sarah asked me many times. I never ever told her there was no Santa.

 

As I've said before, when I discovered I was pregnant at the ripe old age of 40 I was less than thrilled, to put it mildly. But one day I realized that I would have this fresh little believer again!! It was one of the first things about being pregnant that I was able to find any joy in. So, is it any wonder that I protect the idea of Santa Claus so ferociously?

 

As for the Easter Bunny, eh, I don't think I ever totally bought into that idea. I mean Santa is a man, a living human being! But a bunny, traveling the world delivering baskets of Candy? Come on, it's just too far fetched even for a sucker like me! So last week when it was time to do the shopping for stuff for Easter baskets I found myself in a delemma. I had the requisite candy bought several weeks in advance (and for the first time in the history of my buying Easter candy, I DIDN'T eat a single piece of it before Easter!). I went to ToysRUs last Saturday to buy a few little toys to go in Austin's basket. One of the toys I got for him was a Super Soaker squirt gun, massive thing!! My nephew and his wife had a new baby last Friday and I wanted to get a Super Soaker  for their older son so that he and Austin would have something fun to play with at the family Easter celebration. As I was buying the two guns it occurred to me that this might raise some kind of doubt in Austin's mind. How would he process the information that Taylor was getting the exact same Super Soaker that he was getting. The kid is not a dummy! He would never believe it a coincidence that I just happened to buy Taylor this gun and then he would get the exact same thing in his Easter basket. He has been asking me about Santa for two years now. I am adamant that there is a Santa Claus. I will remain adamant that there is a Santa Claus until the day they put me in a box! Santa IS real, damn it. I won't lose him again!!!! Soooo, I made up my mind that IF Austin asked me for the truth about the Easter Bunny (and by this point I was praying that he would!) I was going to come clean. My reasoning being that if I admitted that there was no Easter Bunny it would give more validity to my insistence that there was indeed a Santa Claus!

 

As we were setting out his Easter basket last Saturday night Austin asked the million dollar question. "Mommy, is the Easter Bunny real?" I replied, "Well, Austin, what do you think?" He thought for a minute and he said that it seemed like it would be kind of hard for a rabbit to go all the way around the world with so much candy and "stuff". Perfect! I said, "Yeah, I think it would be kind of hard to imagine that too. He then asked me if I was the one that bought the stuff for his Easter basket. I admitted that it was, to which he replied, "Why in the world do you waste so much money on all that candy and stuff?" I told him I did it because I know it makes him happy and that it's fun for me to do. Just like that, I'd sold out the Easter Bunny! Not surprisingly, the next thing out of his mouth was, "Well, are you the one that buys my presents at Christmas  too?" "Absolutely not", I insisted, "Santa Claus is real".

 

The world can be a harsh and cold place sometimes. I do believe in Santa Claus and I always will. Austin will never hear any differently from me. As the editor of The Sun once wrote to Virginia:

 

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real andabiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

And I would add....Mommies too!