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Archive for the ‘FAMILY’ Category

I have experience the longest four weeks of my life, with hubby, our son, and youngest daughter away on an adventure! The feeling has been similar to the expectancy of the birth of a baby, or the waiting for your wedding day! And, with all three of these times of waiting, they culminate with embracing, words of love and drinking in their scent, which you know so intimately as belonging to someone who is yours.

Kind of like … dogs. You know, you take your beast for a walk, and are walking towards another person and their beast. Both people say ‘hi’, and the beasts … well they go for the sniff and lick … seriously, THAT is something I can’t wait to get to heaven and ask God that most theological of questions … ‘why do dogs sniff each other’s butts?’ But I digress.

But really, the familiarity of a scent, that is the evidence of an intimate relationship.

To inhale their scent, that, to a mom, says they are mine. I remember one other time when hubby was away, and, on the phone I told him that I missed his scent. His response was to pass gas, so I could at least hear it … we are so from two very different planets! Believe me, there are some scents that, as a woman, I could never miss! (I know this is a universal woman thing too … a few weeks back, my daughter says, ‘Mom, I so miss having girls with me … my brother had a chili dog today … and I’m confined to the car with the effects of it!’).

bad smell

We may know many people, and we might even know their cologne, or perfume, or hand lotion, or even soap, but to know their individual scent … your relationship has to be closer, more physical, more intimate.

When I go to the East Coast to visit my family, it is not just my mother’s embrace that holds me to her, but her familiar scent. I cannot imagine anything forcing the memory of the scent of my mom from my mind.

I am sure I could be blindfolded, and still be able to identify those most intimately connected to me, by sniffing their necks (okay, it would also be easy to identify hubby, as his is covered with whiskers).

Now, don’t get me wrong, we are not just sitting around sniffing each other. We will talk, we will hug (we are ‘huggers’), we will play, we will travel, we will see sights, we will go to the beach (I wonder if the South East Beach smells like a North East beach? I swear I can still be one hundred miles from the East Coast, and I can smell it … home). But those first moments, those first hours together, it is our sense of smell that was and will be most keenly reunited.

“Everyday, you make me smile.
Everyday, you make me glad to be a mother.
Everyday, you make a memory I’ll never want to forget.
Everyday, I’m more thankful than the day before that you are my little boy/girl.
Everyday, I smell your hair and touch your skin
and wonder
how I ever lived my life without you.
Everyday.”
Unknown Author

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Once you read this tale, you will be shocked to know that my grandmother is from Scotland … the land of tea (and shortbread … mmmmm, who could ever forget the shortbread … I wonder how long I would need to walk, to work off a good shortbread cookie?).

So my mother is my grandmother’s daughter, therefore, mom has about half of her life-giving blood donated by the nation of Scotland. Truly, good tea-making should be in her genetic code. But, it’s not!

Here is my mom’s (or is it mum’s) method of making tea …

First: One must use Red Rose Tea Bags

Next: Boil water, while, pouring out ‘yesterdays’ tea, rinsing the pot (must be Pyrex)


Next: Set pot on the wire ring, on the burner

Then: Place two Red Rose Tea bags into pot.

Then: When the water is boiled, pour into the pot.

Next: Turn burner to ‘low’ and allow to steep … for many, many minutes!

Finally: Enjoy

But, for my mom (of fine tea-making Scottish heritage), that is not the end of the story. No, MY mom doesn’t start the process all over again at lunch (or, as is said on the East Coast, ‘dinner’), and then at dinner (on the East Coast, known as ‘supper’). MY mom makes a full pot (just for herself, as dad is a strict milk-drinker) in the morning, and then re-heats, by re-boiling, the morning tea for lunch (dinner) and dinner (supper).

YUCK!

What self-respecting Canadian, of Scottish heritage, would make such a brew? (and what daughter, of said Canadian-Scottish heritage TELL of it?). Why it is just wrong, and in some countries, might even be viewed as criminal behavior.

All that said, some mornings (and only in the mornings, because I know of the dishpan quality of the tea as the day grows older), I so wish I could sit at her kitchen table (no one, in their right mind, on the East Coast would sit anywhere else for tea and a visit), and watch her go through her morning tea-making routine, and listen to her talk of all the people we know (what else do you talk about on the East Coast, besides other people … talk of the weather could cause people to sink in a hole as deep as those of us on the West Coast are wallowing in), and sit, in the same seats we have sat in since I can remember, and have our tea … together.

And when I am old (er … my body is already headed on the irreversible pathway), and my mom is gone, you know what I will remember, with fondness, every time I see a wire burner ring, or Red Rose Tea, or a Pyrex tea pot? I will remember my mom’s re-boiled tea, and the great memories I have of sitting in ‘our’ seats at the table in her kitchen, gossiping talking fondly ( 😉 ) about all those we know. Maybe re-boiled tea is not so bad.

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This one is gonna be a long one, because it is the culmination of a handful of blog entries that are still only drafts, they are … unfinished. So grab your coffee, or tea (from the unfinished blog entry ‘Re-Boiled Tea’, oh, and that’s for you mom … everyone who blogs knows that if no other person on the face of the earth reads your blogs, mom does … and dad, so get your glass of milk), and, of course, chocolate, and snuggle into your seat, it’s going to be a long one (if I get it ‘finished’)!

Now, where do I start? I know how to finish (I can finish the cake, finish reading the book, finish the chocolate, finish the yard work, finish the candy, but I digress). But starting can be more difficult.

I am not a news-lover! As a matter of fact, with hubby gone now for two weeks, the TV REMOTE is gathering dust! Oh, I spent countless hours enjoying reno. and do-it-yourself shows, but, my (undiagnosed) ADD (this is from the unfinished blog entry ‘My Daughter says I have ADD’) can stand TV for only so long!

I do love good news, though. And, recently I heard really good news.

My dad has been sick much of this past winter. He easily gets respiratory infections, pneumonia anything to do with lungs and breathing, he’s had it! He’s been admitted to hospital, drugged through the winter season with an assortment of medications that have been equally successful and failure in improving his condition, and had a butt-load of medical tests and procedures to uncover the root of his problems.

When there is ‘stuff’ going on in the lives of my family, I am so keenly aware of how far the east is from the west (from the unfinished blog entry of the same name). They live on the east coast, and I, on the west. They can watch the sun rise out of the Atlantic, and I can watch it set in the Pacific. They ‘get to have’ (they do not necessarily appreciate this privilege, as they got snow on April 1st  this year … April Fools!) snow in the winter, and I suffer (and everyone around me suffers in my vocal suffering) with a season called Monsoon Season. On the East Coast you can buy coastal properties for under $100,000, on the west coast coastal properties are too expensive to hotel at! On the east coast the humor is dry and sarcastic (from the unfinished blog ‘We Have Sarcasm Themed Dinners’ … Seriously!), on the west coast, humor is … shipped in from the east 😉  And, I digress, again!

Truly, living so far away is a sucky bummer (from the unfinished blog entry of the same name … you’re gonna love that one). There is no popping over for a ‘mom talk’, there is no being there for birthdays, and Father’s Day, and bumping into brothers at the mall, and having a house full of my kid’s cousins. There is also no spending occasions with cheek squeezing auntie (where I come from aunts is not pronounced ‘ants’. Ants crawl on the floor, but my aunts … hum, maybe this reasoning doesn’t work so well!), or that creepy uncle (lets face it, every family has at least one relative that is the personification of ‘creepy’) … hum, there are some benefits of living on the opposite coast 😉 .

So this week I heard good news, after all of the tests my dad has been going through, the results are in, and he is okay. No cancer (a relief, as his dad suffered with lung cancer before he died), no pneumonia, no nothing really, except for a virus that he had picked up while in the hospital, at some point. Apparently this virus will be residing in him, as long as he’s residing on planet Earth, and is not problematic unless it flares, but there is good, reliable medication for it that.

Ahhhhh! Good News is so Good!

And so, we all continue living our unfinished lives, in our temporary homes (from the unfinished blog of the same name). It makes me wonder, as I always do when confronted with news (good or bad) … what is the lesson, what is there to learn from this? I figure if something is going to get my heart rate up, or cause me to sweat, or make me laugh hysterically, or cry from the depths of my soul, or make me shake with anger … there must be something to learn from it (whatever ‘it’ is), that I can benefit from. Sometimes it is so much easier to see the ‘benefit’ than others, when it seems to only be a lesson, and a hard one at that.

It’s sort of like when a child touches something hot, after being told not to … that is a hard lesson, and, for the child, who is crying because her hand hurts, the idea of ‘benefit’ from the lesson goes unseen. But, as an adult, we can see that the lesson, although painful, has benefit, as the child will not enter into that danger again. Hum, I guess our experience provides a bigger perspective.

Kind of like our lives. But we are the child. We have ‘stuff’ in life that burns our hands, that burns our hearts, and hurts like crazy. We think there is no tomorrow (or wish there was no tomorrow, so that the pain, the agony the hard ‘stuff’ of life would be over). But, what we ‘children’ think we see as complete and whole … God, the bigger-picture seeing parent, sees as unfinished, and He sees a bigger picture.

I wish I had His lens!

But, for now I am thankful that my dad is okay, that his days are unfinished … I guess there is a lesson, something to learn from this  … for me, for him, for all of our family. I guess we need to seek out the answer to that, until it is … you know, finished.

We don’t yet see things clearly.

We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist.

But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright!

We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!

But for right now, until that completeness,

we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation:

Trust steadily in God,

hope unswervingly,

love extravagantly.

And the best of the three is love.”

1 Corinthians 13:12-13

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“Tale as old as time

True as it can be”

And so begins a song from a story that brings out “ohs and ahs’ in little girls, and makes the boys stick their finger down their throats in a choking gesture.

It really is a tale as old as time (minus the wretched ‘curse’). The person given ‘credit’ for writing this tale is Mme. Leprince de Beaumont, and the date of it’s publish was 1757! But the plot, the story, even predate that! In earlier versions the ‘beast’ is a pig, or a man with black skin who wants it white again (and we think racism is new?), or, get this, one version is called ‘The Girl Who Married A Snake’ … I can’t see that title being a big hit for Disney (and I definitely would not pick that book up)!

But, as old as the story is, the premise has not changed. A lovely lady and an undeserving, beastly man, meet. They spend time together, her loveliness rubs off, then she sees him in a new light, they fall in love … and live ‘happily ever after’ (imagine a sunset, pretty little birds fluttering, stars in each of their eyes … ahhhhhh).

Why does this story so appeal to us that it’s plot lasts hundreds of years? Do we females believe, as Diana in Anne of Green Gables, who said, “it would be nobler to marry some wild, dashing, wicked young man and reform him”?

All this makes me wonder, why has this plot, this premise, not been duplicated with role reversal? In other words, would this story fly, would it ‘sell’ if the physical ‘beast’ was the woman, and the ‘beauty’ was the man? Would the man be able to see her beauty from within? Or would he never even give her a second glance? I know from my estrogen-filled body, soul, heart and mind that I would go to a ‘chick’ flick with that story line! This could sell … to females!

But could it happen? Because for such a story to touch us, to grip our very being, there has to be some element of truth in it, some element of ‘this could happen’. So, could it? Could a man choose to see beauty in a visually unappealing lady?

I wonder …

 

 

 

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It’s a weird thing, getting ready to celebrate my daughter’s 14th birthday, but not getting to celebrate it with her … except on Skype … a poor substitute!

You were a long awaited answer to prayer, after agonizing losses, and, finally acceptance that you might never come to be. Man, we should have known that you would not be any easier after birth, than the waiting before.

You came to us (via the stork, of course, what 14 year old wants to accept that there could be any other way … gross? AND what mother, who gave birth, wants to be reminded of the birthing process?) on an beautiful spring, warm and sunny day, with magnolia trees in full bloom just outside the hospital walls … how idyllic … today it is raining, and pouring!

Your birth was quick and natural (aka … hum, sin is natural … enough said), and you slept through the first night … and that was the only night you slept through for two years!

Your hair was the color of a shiny copper penny, and it covered, not just your head, but your back, and even on the sides of your face (we called you our monkey … and now, when you have friends over, we realize that monkeys attract each other).

We took you home to your sister who so desperately wanted you (to have someone to boss around).

And now you are 14, and so much more aware of the world. As a child you amazed me, at how you could find a playmate in anyone; no difference was a barrier. You played with anyone, no matter their age, where they were from, or gender.

You still can find a playmate in anyone, but you now see that there are differences … growing up can mean you lose beautiful innocence.

There is something I desperately do not want you to lose, and I see it fading …

Don’t stop dancing. There is freedom in dancing, there is dreaming in dancing, there is uniqueness and creativity in dancing, there is worship in dancing. All of that, just from dancing … alone … by you, for you, for your Creator.

My most beautiful memory of you is that hot summer day, when, on the cusp of … changes, you played dress-up, felt the cool of the shaded grass between your toes, and you danced all over the back garden. And I stopped and watched, and drank in that moment of innocence, and freedom … and thanked God, that you finally sleep through the night that He prompted me to pick up the camera to keep this memory of you for all time.

I HOPE YOU DANCE

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you’ll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance

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So, it’s been a week since part of my family left. And, man, have I accomplished lots!

I’ve worked in the garden (freshly laid out grass seeds are currently being drenched by yet another ‘mini’ monsoon), organized ‘piles’ of stuff to put elsewhere (some of us are ‘pilers’ and some of us are … messy), taken a day trip with eldest daughter (you will so be hearing about that trip!) and cleaned the house (a very full, extremely heavy, garbage can was taken to the curb last night … not this morning, as is often the case, when another (male) resident of the house frequently chases the garbage truck down the street, with the can … name withheld to protect the guilty).

It has been a good week!

But the dancing through the house in my undies like Tom Cruise in ‘Risky Business’ (yet another indicator of just how archaic I am, AND an added bonus for those who know me is to now have been given FAR too much information, and a visual that they just do not want) is now past. And I am missing my Baby Girl 😦

It is not that she is the only one I am missing … I do miss her brother and her dad, but tonight when Skype was choppy (grrrrrr!), and she kept getting ‘offlined’ by Facebook … my heart just longed for her. It felt as though she and I needed to be together, and the big, bad technology gods were not letting it happen.

It was one of those momma-longings. I remember when she would be sleeping (finally … let me tell you the moments I am about to share were pretty much non-existent for the first two sleepless years of her life) and I would look in on her and everything within me wanted to pick her up and just ‘drink in’ her unique scent …

By the way, for those first two years I NEVER actually did pick her up … heck, I was so sleep deprived that I rarely checked on her if she was sleeping … sleep was a longing that this momma rarely ever had fulfilled.But, I digress.

Anyway, tonight as I ‘chatted-choppily’ on Skype with her dad and brother, I got this longing for her. Then, when she still hadn’t ‘appeared’ in the conversation, I realized that she might be struggling with the thunderstorm they were having, and I NEEDED MY BABY GIRL. Because, even if the thunderstorm was not bothering her mature Middle School person, it was bothering her momma here that I could not hold her in my arms.

I’m so glad times have changed, and that she doesn’t leave me sleep-deprived anymore (of course I recognize that surely that will re-occur in the years to come). I’m so glad that I am not scared to go and watch her sleep peacefully (this does not happen late at night, as I am old, and she is … adolescent. It happens anytime before noon, but after 6am, when I awaken). I am so glad that, even though she is adolescent (and I am … old) we both need to hold each other.

So, Baby Girl, whether you read this tonight, or tomorrow morning (or, in 10 years, because you think reading your mom’s blog is ‘lame’) I want you to know that when you were in Middle School your mom longed to hold you, and talk to you (and give you hints about what I got you for your birthday), and …

I miss you Baby Girl, sleep well.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G6QGTKrj97g

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I said I wouldn’t do it, but I did.

I thought I would hate it, but I didn’t.

What a great walk in the sun I had with the beast yesterday, AND I didn’t get eaten by a bear! (see my previous blog if this makes no sense to you). The sun was bright and warm, the path was littered with friendly people, and I could walk at my own pace.

At my own pace … walking alone.

Walking alone I was able to set my own pace 🙂 . I didn’t have to deal with my hubby’s excessive speed …

Oh boy, I suppose I need to fess up about the excessive speed issue. This is where I could use a 12 Step program, because, you see, I am innately, wholly, aggressively competitive. When we walk together hubby does start the walk at speeds that could be clocked at Nascar. But, once my joints are loosened up (numb enough that I feel nothing anymore) the monster within me takes over. This monster cannot be led anywhere! It is a strong-willed, arrogant, Type A personality within me that has, not a need for speed, but a need to be in the lead!

Sometimes, while hubby and I are a-walkin’ and a-talkin’ I even hear voices from the monster within! ‘Carole, he’s gaining on you; Carole, don’t let him pass you; Carole, you are stronger, move your keester.’ It is very distressing! But, alas, I have digressed yet again.

Walking alone, there was an absence of the monster within, there was no competition. I could try to compete with my beast, but, lets face it, she’s got the endurance of a race horse. Even my monster within knows better than to try to out-walk a 55lb., 6-year old canine. So, without hubby, I didn’t get as far down the trail, as when he is there.

Walking alone, my joints didn’t cry out to Jesus for relief in the first 15 minutes of the walk.

Walking alone, I had the opportunity to see and drank in the beauty around me. When you are walking like a race car, there is no journey, only destination.

Walking alone, I had to buy my own blended ‘Naked Juice’ drink after the walk!

Walking alone, I had to ‘scoop the poop’ … wait a minute, nothing has changed here!

And that is where this two-part entry began … walking alone. It was a day of contrasts. There were good differences and bad, walking alone. But, with hubby or alone, the path remains the same. The bends are still there, the hills are still there, the shady trees are still there (the stinky outhouse is still there). What changes is my experience of the path.

I hope that the experience of walking alone will help me to see afresh how wonder-filled this path is.

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For weeks my husband’s been on a big ‘get and live healthier’ kick, I’ve been on more of a ‘get and live healthier’ … foot tap. He’s had stupendous success with weight loss, and I … I can now button my pants without first laying on the bed. He celebrated his success by increasing the minutes of walking he was doing, daily. I celebrated my success by going to a movie … not because of the movie, but because I wanted theater popcorn with REAL BUTTER, but, I digress.

After over 21 years of marriage, my significant other (who is getting less ‘significant’ with each walk) has walked with me more in the past three months than in the over twenty-one years before! And, it is now me who is walking with him! AND I often am trying to catch up! We have experienced true role-reversal in the area of walking, and, I don’t know if I like it. But, again, I digress.

When going for a walk, our usual P. O. A. (Plan Of Action) is to park, saddle up the beast, start the stopwatch app. on hubby’s phone, and head out. There is NEVER any stretching, and our warm-up only occurs when my knee is sore and I ‘suggest’ that we have a slow start. When this happens I can read hubby’s O. C. P. (Obsessive Compulsive Personality) non-verbal thoughts … “man, that means we won’t get as far on the path; could I ‘fudge’ what the stopwatch says?; this will seriously affect my results; the dog is so much easier to manage than ‘she’ is.” Okay, anyone who knows my husband (and his disdain for the dog) knows he would definitely not think the last thought! So we head out, at Mario Andretti speed, ready to plow over anyone, and anything in our way, because the goal is to get it done, and get it done fast!

So, we walk together quite often, and there is a particular trail that we love. It is safe, populated and beautiful. But it is a little … wilderness-y. And, although I love the great outdoors, I have a problem with places where there are ‘bear alert’ signs. I do not like wilderness-y that is fast enough, big enough and hungry enough to eat me! So, I have been content to only walk this trail with hubby.

The problem is, he left town. So I was left with a dilemma, I am now a ‘habitual’ walker, and can’t just stop because he’s not here, but … my fear of being eaten is huge! So, my plan was that I would walk a local track (knee pain keeps me off of concrete and asphalt). It too is safe, populated and, if you look beyond the track, beautiful! Problem solved! Until this morning, when my beast, Shiloh, looked up at me with her puppy dog eyes, non-verbally communicating that she NEEDED to go for a walk, in the sun, today! What’s a non-wilderness-y girl to do?

I’ll update you later 😉 … if the bears don’t get me!

 

 

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It has been ‘just a regular day’ today …

6am – alarm goes off (but what if it hadn’t?)

7:30am – kids awaken (but what if they hadn’t?)

8:30am – start work (but what if I had no work that I love?)

3:30pm – purchase produce (what if I had no means to do that?)

4:30pm – prepare dinner (what if the cupboards were bare?)

5:30pm – eat dinner with family (what if I had no family?)

10pm – dream bedtime (what if I had no bed?)

There are many ‘what ifs’ in each and every ‘regular’ day. They are the what ifs that, if they were different, if they altered, my regular day would be catastrophic, disheartening, life-changing. I spoke to a teen today, whose uncle (with young children) is dying. No day is ‘regular’ for him, anymore. Today his wife and children wish for a ‘regular’ day again. As an excitement junkie, I can easily become bored with all things regular. But today reminded me that ‘regular’ can mean real, beautiful, satisfying, worth-living-for … LIFE. And it’s better than the alternative.

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