From Old Comes New

I have been counting down the days until my children and grandchildren are all gathered in one place. I can hardly wait for the plane to land in Chicago, bringing its most precious cargo to American soil once again. It has been nearly six months since I last saw my younger daughter and her family. My husband has been anxiously waiting to hold his grandson for the first time and to swallow them all in giant bear hugs. I want everything to be perfect for their visit, yet I know it will not be so. I haven't managed to clean out my husband's home office to make way for a room of her own for our granddaughter. She will have to share a room instead. I haven't gotten around to touching up the paint on the bathroom wall where the new light fixtures were installed. I haven't managed to weed all the flower beds and trim all the shrubs. I haven't yet planned out the menus. But nearly perfect is good enough for me. I have managed to drag out my children's toy box and sort through the twenty-something year old toys. I had to smile when I opened a small blue jean purse to find it filled with dozens of Cabbage Patch Kids Shrinky Dinks. Dance leotards and tap shoes were tucked into a pink ballet bag. Jump rope, pink child-size weights, and assorted exercise gadgets were tucked into another bag. Rainbow Bright and Strawberry Shortcake dolls were packed away in boxes, while My Little Ponies were corraled in a small trunk. My youngest daughter's Lemon Drop treasure box was secured tightly with its tiny lock, the key to which was found hidden inside another small purse in a sliding metal lip balm case. Adjustable Fischer Price roller skates await my granddaughter's use, as do the hundreds of storybooks that I saved from my children's early years. A Rainbow Bright cassette player still seems to work and the cassettes are now sitting on a shelf just waiting for little ears to enjoy the tales to be told. My younger daughter's music box, a gift from her grandmother, sits upon the bookcase, beckoning with its tinkly song and tiny twirling monkey. The giant chalkboard is waiting to be washed down and fastened to the garage wall in anticipation of little artful hands. I was actually surprised at how many things I had kept from my daughters' childhood days. I expect that they will get a kick out of seeing some of these relics of their past. A new wading pool is stored in the garage and several new baby toys share space in the toy box for my grandson's pleasure. The car seats, strollers, baby monitors, booster chair and sippy cups are ready and waiting. It has been a pleasurely trip down memory lane getting ready for this visit. I cannot wait for the chance to create many new memories while sharing the past.

No Apologies Please

Over the years I have grappled with a question that inevitably comes up when meeting someone for the first time. In the course of pleasant conversation someone will ultimately ask how many children I have. To the majority of people this may seem illogical that it would give one pause before answering. If you have never experienced the loss of a child you cannot understand the emotion involved in the answer. First and foremost I am the mother of three daughters. In my heart and soul I will always be so. So shouldn't it be that simple to say so? But it is not so simple, so I weigh whether I am likely to see this new person again and how often I may be interacting with him/her. If I tell a relative stranger that I had three daughters but my youngest died twenty years ago at the age of seven from a brain tumor, conversation can come to an uncomfortably screaching halt. The stranger suddenly feels guilty for asking and begins to apologize so I end up trying to ease their anxiety. I hate being in the position of providing comfort to a stranger for my sorrow.

I would never say I had only two daughters but I might say that I have one daughter living in Chicago and another living in London and leave it at that, though it feels guiltily like denying my youngest daughter's existence. Or I might say simply that I have three daughters if the conversation will likely be very brief so that further questions will not ensue. If I am meeting someone that I will be seeing or dealing with regularly I find it better to have the conversation early on. I don't rush to explain but when I am asked I would go ahead and talk about it then so we can move beyond that moment of anxiety for the listener.

Don't get me wrong on this, I enjoy talking about and remembering my youngest child. She was an absolute joy and will always be in my thoughts daily. It's just that some people, usually younger adults who have perhaps not experienced the loss of a close family member, feel so uncomfortable when they find out that they get flustered and don't know what to say. They get that deer in the headlights look and you can see them mentally restraining themselves from bolting from the scene. Other people are totally comfortable with it and we can enjoy a moment of explanation without the stumbling of words and then move the conversation forward. You never know what someone's situation is so always try to be the latter. Don't make that person tell you it's okay. It is not okay, never will be okay, but life goes on and we have to make the best of it.

A Royal Lesson

While webcamming the other day with my daughter and my grandchildren I was given a lesson in British culture. My three year old granddaughter had performed a song for us and then took a bow. Afterward, she curtsied and asked me to do the same. Seems I needed a lesson because I didn't quite come up to standard for meeting the queen. Amelia explained in detail to me just how to properly bow my head, bend my knees, and hold my dress (or rather my T-shirt that morning) for a royal curtsy. I tried again and was praised with "Good job Nana". I suppose I will be practicing over the next month before their visit to the states so I will get it right when I next see the little princess in person. I hope I will meet her royal expectations!

Tag - I'm It

I was tagged for this meme by my daughter so here goes:

1. What are your current obsessions? Pottery, roasted red pepper hummus and sea salt pita chips, crossword puzzles, photography, strawberries-cored and filled with Amaretto then topped with whipped cream - fabulous.

2. Which item from your wardrobe do you wear most often? as much as possible, flannel pajama pants with t-shirt, very comfy, especially in the early morning hours while sipping coffe on the porch! Blue jeans when I am in public. Scrubs at work.

3. Last dream you had? work related, so I won't bore you here

4. Last thing you bought? besides groceries, a quilt for my 3 year old granddaughter who was absolutely adorable with her excitement when she received it in the mail

5. What are you listening to? Right now, a random mix of Corrine Bailey Ray, Robert Plant and Allison Krauss, Joe Bonamassa, Harry Manx and Kevin Breit, and Susan Tedeschi.

6. What childhood friend that you have lost contact with would you most like to see again? Dandelion

7. Favourite holiday spots? London, Chicago, Memphis, Nashville

8. Reading right now? Gardening books, medical coding books

9. Four words to describe yourself: Stubborn, Clutterphobic, Detail-oriented, Creative

10. Guilty pleasure? Art fairs, buying clothes and books for my grandchildren

11. Who or what makes you laugh until you’re weak? My husband, when he is not making me scream or cringe.

12. Favourite spring thing to do? I love to lie in bed in the wee hours of the morning, with the spring air drifting gently through the window screen billowing the sheer curtains in and out like a sail, and listen to the concert of chirping and whistling as the birds awaken and begin their day. Makes me really miss living in the country.

13. When you die, what would you like people to say about you at your funeral? She was late for everything, even her own funeral.

14. Best thing you ate or drank lately? Grilled salmon prepared by my husband

15. When did you last go for a night out? Went to see Taken at the theatre then to dinner, maybe 2 months ago? A wedding reception in March? So long ago I don't remember.

16. Where is the next place you'd like to travel? Napa Valley with my wine-loving friends

17. Care to share some wisdom? Be happy in the present and grateful for the tomorrows

18. Song you can’t get out of your head? Janis Joplin's "Me and My Bobby McGee"

19. Thing you are looking forward to? Holding my daughters and grandchildren in my arms when they are all here in June.

20. Which disease or condition would you most like to see eradicated? Pediatric brain tumors, autism, diabetes, and multiple sclerosis.

21. What is your most irrational fear? My fear of heights.

22. what irritates you on a regular basis? Work

23. What is the most important lesson you've learned from someone in your life? Never go to bed angry with those you love

24. If you could change careers right now what field would you be in? Perhaps architecture

This meme ends here unless anyone would like to continue in comments or on their own blog.

Spring Fling

It is an absolutely gorgeous evening, warm with a mild breeze blowing away the last remnants of the long winter days, restoring my soul with hope for a relaxing spring and summer spent with friends and family. I am mesmerized by the ever mindful robin as she flies steadfastly back and forth to her nest of baby birds tucked into the eaves with her cache of insects to quiet the hungry brood. She never waivers in her dedication and when the cheeping finally subsides and her little ones have settled down into the nest she perches nearby to stand guard, warning away any other bird that dares to come near. As I sip my drink I lean back into my chair to quietly observe the frolicking on the lawn as two fuzzy brown squirrels tease and chase each other. The smaller squirrel dashes for the nearest tree then stops to shake its bushy tail, taunting and inviting. Then up the tree they both race, round and round the trunk as they make their way upward, then flitting across the budding limbs. Just when it seems the squirrel would be caught it leaps into the neighboring tree and makes its escape down the knobby trunk, stopping to quiver its tail, its flag of victory. Then they race to the far corners of the yard and disappear into the distant trees. The neighbor's black and white patchwork cat slinks around the corner and the mother robin begins a noisy revelry. I shoo the cat away, temporarily staving off his sneak attack. In spite of the buzz of traffic I am acutely aware of all the sounds around me: the buzz of the insects, the chirping of crickets, the whistling of the birds, the creaking of branches and rustling of leaves, the barking of the neighborhood dogs in the distance, the laughter of children playing down the street, the whir of skateboards on pavement. It seems that everyone and everything is out enjoying the warm spring evening. I finish my drink slowly, then close my eyes and let the sounds wash over me. I love this time of year.

Treasure

I am in a funk and feeling sorry for myself so this blog is dedicated to my little sister and my best friends in my hometown. I miss them all so much. How nice it would be to be able to jump in my car and run over to their houses to visit, to have their company when I am feeling low. I think back to the days when life was so simple, when the greatest joy was to sit around a dining room table, dealing out cards for a game of euchre, with our kids happily playing nearby, spending an evening of fun with the best friends a person could ask for. No matter how much our incomes have risen, or not, it is these simple carefree days that I truly treasure and miss. No pretense, no high expectations, we were able to just be ourselves with the knowledge that no matter what was happening in our lives at the moment we would have each other to lean on. I would give my left arm (did I mention that I am left-handed) to have those friends so near again. What I wouldn't give to be sitting at this moment in my little sister's kitchen, toasting a marshmallow over the open flame of her stove, laughing and talking about everything that was on our minds, never having to worry about being judged. Or to be popping the cork on a bottle of wine with T, her infectious tipsy laughter lifting my spirits, making me smile in spite of myself and my troubles. To be making a fool of myself on the dance floor of a small time club in our tiny town while letting my troubles fall like sweat from my body as I swayed to the music while my longtime conservative childhoood friend chuckled at the nearby table, knowing all the while that she secretly wished she could garner the courage to get out there and shake her wild thing with the rest of us. To laugh until our stomachs ached with the strain, to cry so hard that we were emptied of emotion, to be held and to hold through the good times and bad, to bare our souls and feel safe in that nakedness, to know that nothing could possibly drive them away. I love you, my dear friends, and I miss you terribly. Let us all raise our glasses and have a toast to true friendship and to true love. You are my salvation as I am yours.

Baby Steps

Today I took my husband by the hand and gently led him down the hall , out the door and onto the carport. I unlocked the shed and began to hand him box after box of items to be sorted. He didn't understand at first the need I had to begin the painful process of organizing and decluttering his domain. He really didn't see why it was a danger to have boxes stacked as high as his head, leaning like the tower of Pisa. What did it matter to me if he could barely squeeze through the space? So what if the shelves overhead were sagging with the weight of all things past crammed onto them? He became agitated that he was being forced to confront his demon, his tendency to save everything because someday he might find a use for that scrap of wood or sheet of plastic. This is not a man who grew up deprived. His father was a packaging engineer and his mother was a nurse anesthetist. They weren't extravagant but they also weren't miserly. His was a rather typical middle-class upbringing. He tried to justify the chaos by blaming his parents. When they down-sized we inherited a lot of their junk - old power and hand tools, half-finished woodworking projects, several million nuts and bolts, a flag pole and a few old flags, old mechanic's books, and other assorted items that really have no monetary or sentimental value that he just can't throw away. Added to that were box after box of sample plastic color tiles, sample fabric coatings, miniature sample containers, old sales presentations, headlights and other car parts from past packaging projects that he had worked on. I suggested that he either take those to the plant for storage or throw them out if he no longer needed them. I was made to feel that I was asking him to cut off his arms. But I persevered and we managed to make some progress. He threw out the equivalent of 4 large garbage cans full of junk and he agreed to take several things to his office. We packed up some items to go out to our rented storage unit (yes we still have those). He still has enough car wash detergent, wax, tire care, leather cleaner to open a car wash but at least now he can find it and won't have to run out to buy more. I am sure there is enough antifreeze to last for five or so years. He can now get to his workbench and actually find the most basic of his tools. There is now a designated space for extension cords and garden hoses. No more tangled mess to test his patience. Next weekend we will try to work on the overhead shelves. That's when the real struggle will ensue. I want to enforce a new rule: for every new item going in, two items must go out. Baby steps to clutter freedom.