Three hundred and sixty five days of learning...Life after your mom passes.

 Three hundred, sixty-five days today, my mom passed away after a heroic, vicious battle with ALS. 

 I was in the car, driving back to Florida to be with her when I got a text..."she passed."

And just like that, life changed.  I called my brother from the car and then had my moment.  Or maybe two moments. 

Days before, I squeezed her little hand and told her thank you for being our mom. It was sunrise and there was this warm glow in the room.  It was quiet and peaceful  I squeezed but she could not squeeze back.  

As I squeezed her hand and rubbed her head, I prayed God would free her from pain and this monster called ALS. 

When she was diagnosed on July 12, 2021, none of us were prepared for the beast, ALS.

When I got on the plane that morning, I rested my head on the window of the plane and silent tears fell.  I prayed some more.  I wanted my mom to be free.  And at peace.

Now she was.

I turned my car around in a church parking lot. I called my husband.  

Then, I called the funeral home.  Ironically, they told me that my mom would be flying back to Pennsylvania on an Amazon plane, filled with Christmas presents.  You will never know how fitting that was for her.  

 I cried in my car.   I looked at the sky and turned the car ignition back on. 

I was going back home and my daughter would be there.  I was sucking it up.  I had not seen my daughter in months and I wanted her to have a great homecoming. 

I promised myself that day in the car, that I would mentally spend at least five minutes daily with my mom. And reflect.

My mom, like every mother on this planet said often and with venom, "You are going to appreciate me when I am gone."

In those 365 days of daily reflection, here is what I learned or had reinforced.  (in no particular order)

1.  Spend your money on good shoes, good sheets, bras and frying pans.  Period.  These are the things you cannot skimp on.  My bras cost me more than a set of tires and they are worth it. My mom loved a "good set of sheets".  She turned her nose up at the hospital bed sheets and it made me laugh.  I knew exactly what she was thinking. 

2.  Call somebody.  Don't text.  Call.  Talk.  My mom was nonverbal for over a year.  God does have a sense of humor but what I wouldn't do for one more conversation with my mom.  So, make the call.  It does matter. Tonality changes everything. 

3.  Whenever my brother or I would have a "moment" when we were feeling sorry for ourselves for whatever reason, regardless of our ages...my mom would say in a real mom like voice, "Are we having a pity party, are people coming over, should I bake cookies, appetizers?  Let me know how many people to expect." 

 We hated that so much. Her anit-pity party attitude had a huge affect on me and my brother.

I was a senior in high school, days away from the senior prom, where people went with people, never stag, and I didn't have a date.  Worse than that, my bestie did not have a date and I knew she was prom queen because I helped to count the votes.  I had to call and tell her mom to get her a date, which she did...but...still no date for me.  I was sitting in my mom's "chair" while she was on the phone with a girlfriend...and she says so I can hear, "I have to get off the phone...My daughter is dateless for the Senior Prom and i have to get ready for her Pity party today".  Oh, I wanted step on her foot so very hard at that moment.  She comes over and says, "Get over it.  It will work out or it will not.  Either way, you will be okay.  It will be okay.  This is not the worst thing that will ever happen to you, although it does seem " Two days later, my friend came up to me and said/asked "since you do not have a date, and I do not have a date, let's go to the prom together."  We had a blast.  Best Prom Date ever.  My mom was correct. 

I have looked at her situation with ALS, nonverbal, immobile, could not eat or swallow, these three things for a year.  She didn't feel sorry for herself. She was pissed but she never had a pity party.   Nobody comes anyway. 

About six months before my mom passed, a few friends came to visit her.  Remember, my mom was nonverbal.  These friends commented on "how pleasant my mom was".  After they left, I commented to my mom about how her friends thought she was so pleasant.  My mom reached for the pad and wrote, "I am only nice cause I cannot talk.  If I could talk they would know how pissed off I was that I had ALS".  I laughed.  I laughed so hard. She never complained.  We never had the pity party.

3.  Send cards.  Birthday cards, 'No real reason cards", anniversary cards.  Just send the darn cards.  Let people know you care.  Send cards.  They are the only good things that come in the mail.  Won't be hard to spread sunshine.

So funny, mom loved sending and receiving Christmas cards.  When she could no longer use her arms, she was not going to send the Christmas cards.  I told her "No way.  If you don't send a card, folks will think you died, not knowing she had been diagnosed.  I will write a letter for you to insert inside your card."  She did it.  At her celebration, a lady came up to me and told me that she always loved getting a card from her at Christmas.  She said, if she had not received the card, she would have known something was seriously wrong.  When she read the letter, she knew it would be the last card she ever got from her.  The card made her step up as a friend.  

4.  Write down recipes.  Don't text them or email them, write them down.  The value is immeasurable.   I have a box of recipes, all hand written, from my great grandmother, mamaw, Aunt Judy, Mona and my mom.  There is batter splattered on some, my mamaw drew pictures on one and my great grandmother just wrote "throw in salt, add a couple eggs and add more sugar if you want".  I laugh every time I make those recipes.  I "feel" them. 

5.  Wrap gifts.  Forget the bags whenever possible.  Wrap the gifts.  Use real ribbon whenever possible.  The presentation sells the gift. 

6.  Even though your family is flawed, love your family.  You are also flawed.  Love them.  We all have a nut job in the family, make them "your little nut job."  And laugh with them.  Love your family and stand up for them when they need you too.  

7.  Sometimes you have to do things you do not want to, do not like and hope you never have to do again, but you do them because it brings someone joy.  Suck it up and do it if it is going to give someone joy.

8.  You never know when the time will come that it will be the last time you can do something.  So, whatever it is you love, find the time, make the time and enjoy the time.  My mom said her biggest regret was not knowing that the last time she played golf, she didn't know it was her last time. Enjoy it whatever it is, like it is your last time.

9. Just because you cannot speak, your eyes can usually tell what you are thinking. 

10.  My mom always told me, "If you ever have a son, or a husband (she was convinced neither would ever happen for me) and they start talking about their feelings, shut up.  For Goodness' sake, let them talk...and listen.  They usually will talk when the lights are off.  Let them talk, do not talk and listen."  My mom and I had great talks the last year.  She could not say anything, she just listened and she would write on word comments for me to take with me..."Ridiculous", "non-productive" and "idiot" were my favorite take aways.  She listened.  

11.  When just about everything else has been taken away, let someone have their dignity.  Make it about them. 

12.  Cookies matter.  Perfectly baked cookies matter. Especially when they are inside a Christmas tin.

13.  I have tried to live my life with "what would Jesus do?".  Now, it is more like "what would Jesus do? and what would my mom think?".  I was faced with situation shortly after mom passed, a situation I never thought I would find myself in and all I could think of was "what would she want me to do?".  When I was certain that I knew, I acted with confidence.  I knew if I had called her and explained the situation to her, she would have known exactly what to do and how to do it.  So crazy, I could hear her telling me what to say, when to say it and nudged me to put my hand on my hip for extra drama.

15.  And finally, my mom always said "I am so proud as a mother that you and your brother have such a great relationship.  It is the thing I am most proud."  My relationship with my brother, I am certain was always based on, "he's a nut job but he is our little nut job".  Now, it means something so different to me.  I am always sad when siblings "don't gel" or "haven't spoken to them for years".  Sad.  And now when I look or hear my brother's voice, I realize this is it...one of us is next...and the "Bahneman, family of 4" will be done.  It is different now.  We have always had a great relationship but now it is different.  It is just us.  I cannot explain it, it is just different.  In a good way but in a finale sort of way.

Like just about everyone I know, I lost a mom.  What I gained by having her as my mom, will always be immeasurable.  I have changed as a mom.  I am a better person.  She would be proud.

And now, the year is up.  I can hear my mom, "did anyone come to that pity party? No.  Get off your ass and move.  Life is too short.  Don't waste time on feeling sorry for yourself, nobody else is."  Damn, still hate hearing this, but I know it is correct.

So, here's to you mom and  to all the other mom's we have lost.  I am up and moving, thinking of you hourly and being the best version of myself (most of the time).

 Thank you for everything mom.

The Monday after Thanksgiving...Bitchy Betty redeems herself

Total transparency, my previous post about Thanksgiving should have been Part One of a Three-part series, inspired by my friend, Joyce/  I forgot to mention this in the previous post.  

Because I didn't paint "Bitchy Betty" in a very positive light in the last post, I decided I would tell something good about her.  

In Western Pennsylvania, the Monday after Thanksgiving is one of the biggest days of the year.  It is opening day of Deer season.  Schools are closed.  Greatest day of absenteeism in the workplace too.  I am not kidding.

Seriously, one of the best days of the year.  Truly, it is the only time of the year that men actually participate in "planning".  Who knew they could decide in menus, departure times, who needs to bring what, etc.  

In our household, my dad left the day after Thanksgiving to go "Deer Hunting".  He left with his dad, a couple hunting buddies, years later, my brother joined the caravan.  These four or five days were celebrated all over by wives in the Commonwealth.

Besides picking out good jigsaw puzzled, "Bitchy Betty" introduced us to Downtown, the Monday after Thanksgiving.

Downtown, meaning Downtown Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  Us meaning me, my mom and brother, my Aunt Judy and my first cousins, Stephen, Jennifer and Janet.

"Bitchy Betty" organized a day for us "Downtown".  In Western Pennsylvania, we use the word "downtown" to describe going into the city or town or village.  We go "downtown."

So, the kids got word that we were going "downtown" not really knowing what that meant but we were excited nonetheless.  Something new.  And Betty B organized it.  Odd because Betty did not like kids.  At all.  She was one of those people who never should have had kids.  Thank goodness she didn't.  Being a mom was not an innate thing with her. And being a grandmother was not at all her thing.  This was the only time she took the initiative to do anything with us.  So unlike my mamaw (my mom's mom).

My Aunt Judy picked us up, and off we went.  We were dressed up, like really dressed up. Stephen had a sports jacket, the girls in nice skirts and sweaters (adorned with holiday pins, presents with red ribbons) and our hair looked amazing.  We picked "BB" up and off we went, downtown.

I distinctly remember going and parking the car and taking the bus Downtown.

We got off the bus in front of Kaufmann's Department store and the holiday windows.  Now please understand, Kaufmann's was almost a verb.  "I need to Kaufmann" or translation, "I need to get to Kaufmanns."  Kaufmanns was the most gorgeous store ever, with a great restaurant inside, The Tick Tock.  If you counted the hours I spent in Kaufmann's s as a kid or young adult, i bet it would be decades.  My mom had a love affair with Kaufmann's, and we only shopped at the Monroeville store (or later Westmoreland Mall store).  To be "downtown" in the mothership was awe inspiring.  We should have checked her pulse and my Aunt Judy's too.

 To this very day, we still open Christmas gifts in Kaufmann's boxes.  We covet them.

Kaufmanns "downtown" was famous for its clock on the corner of the outside of the store.

  

At the Kaufmann's window, KDKA Radio was broadcasting live, the annual Children's

Hospital Drive.  I can still see Jack Bogut in the window, huge headphones, the call letters on the microphone, the clocks, it was amazing. I honestly think it was the trip that made me want

to work at a radio station. We watched in amazement.  The radio station we listened to in the morning was right there in front of us.  We stayed long enough to hear the " Start your heart, eat a Farkleberry tart and tear the world apart, Farkleberry, Farkleberry".  If you purchased a farkleberry tart, proceeds went to the hospital.  My dad thought this little jingle as amazing. You could purchase the little tarts and then they came out with the turkey.  My dad was all about the turkey.  Standing there in front of the window, watching and listening was no doubt the coolest thing that had happened in my nine-year-old life. 

We listened to KDKA all day, every day.  We laid in bed as a family listening intently to hear our school district called for snow delays and closings. We listened to Pittsburgh Pirate games, and we could sing the jingle, K-D-K-A Pittsburgh, 1020...can still hear it coming from the radio above my parents' bed.  Seeing what we heard come to life was so cool.

Until we walked INSIDE of Kaufmann's. Inside this department store, it was a cross between Disney, Stephen Spielberg and Willy Wonka magic. The store smelled like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, the chandeliers look like something from Disney and the escalator floated. It was all magical.  

On the first floor, there were two things I remember, the makeup/perfume department and on the other side, this confectionary department.  They had the most beautiful chocolate covered apples and pretzels and orange slices.  Everything was lovely.

 We went up the escalator to the restaurant.  We stood in line, and they called our name.  We entered this huge restaurant with enormous chandeliers, round tables with centerpieces and tablecloths.

At your place setting, there was a paper placemat, which also served as the menu.  The menu was list as Rudolph, Dasher, Dancer, Donner, Blitzen, Prancer, Vixen, Comet and Cupid.

Each Reindeer name was a different item.  

I remember the very first time the waitress asked me, I sat up straight, perfect posture, and said "I will have the Rudolph" like I was somebody.  I was.  I had a gold holiday pin on my sweater, my hair looked great, my legs were together under the table, and I was having the Rudolph in a grand ballroom.  It did like the ballroom from the movie Titantic.

We ate our lunch and went to another floor.

What happened on whatever floor it was, was the coolest. We walked in and there was this giant Christmas tree, perfectly and precisely decorated. But this Christmas tree, she spoke to you.  She asked your name, what you wanted from Santa, where we were from, a whole conversation.  Amazing. We were all enthralled.

After speaking to the Christmas tree, we left and took a streetcar to either Gimbels or Hornes Department store.  I am not sure which one. Gimbels was famous for the outside Christmas Tree on the corner of the store.  Again, we looked at all of the store windows that told a story.  I do remember the 12 Days of Christmas group of windows that were amazing.

Inside the store, a Holiday Sophistication that was something five young kids from Delmont, Pennsylvania had never experienced.

Up the elevator we went to the "Christmas Floor".  As the elevator opened, it was a black room with white amusements, like a Ferris wheel that was white, puffy clouds hanging from the ceiling, an amazing Santa Claus and everyone involved was dressed like the most adorable elf.  We rode the amusements, sat on the lap of the perfect Santa Claus and then we entered the "shopping hall".

Inside the shopping hall, you decided whom you were purchasing for, it checked on a paper ticket, your cash went into the envelope, it was all pinned on you with your name, and we (the three oldest) were allowed to go into a room BY OURSELVES AND SHOP!  Glorious!  We shopped by ourselves!  We bought for aunts and uncles and learned that giving was fun.  

The younger kids had to have "helpers" aka elves but not us...after we purchased our gifts, we took them to the wrapping center, and they wrapped our gifts.  While we waited, we had hot chocolate...like we were at happy hour without our folks.  It was so cool.  We loved it.

And finally, we made the trip to the last remaining department store, with our shopping bags filled with treasures we had picked out.

The last windows were amazing too.  They entertained us and we were starting to drag.

We got on the bus and made our way back to our car.

There were so many things about being Downtown that day.  Everything was huge, lovely and perfect.  It was so sophisticated, so festive and so magical.

We did this trip a few times.  The first one is always the best.  I never ordered anything from the menu besides the Rudolph.  My cousin Stephen opted out for hunting, Todd soon went hunting too and the trip fizzled out.

What didn't fizzle out was the magic of opening day of deer season.  My mom and I would carry their bags through 12 feet of snow, barefooted, if we had too, to get them to leave.

Not hating on men, but there is something just as magical as a chandelier, when the men leave for a few days.  My mom and I ate Lady Borden's Bing Cherry Ice-cream for dinner one night.  You know why?  "Because we can".  That's what my mom said.  I slept in bed with her.  The house stayed clean, and we "ripped" (shopped, we called shopping, ripping) and had the best, laid back time. 

When I think back on those days, I smile.  Honestly, that was shopping.  It was the best.  Makes me sad that boxes are delivered to your door, and you retrieve them in your bathrobe. As I am writing this, my daughter texts me her Christmas list, via Amazon.  Gag me.  So tired of looking at Jeff Bezo's girlfriend on his yacht, all toned in the two piece.   

And her is her Christmas list, you click it and add it to the cart, and it comes to your door. 

Oh Addie, we could have had the Rudolph together. 

My Thanksgiving Journey

 

Thanksgiving is approaching.  

I am cheering for Thanksgiving.  It is the "forgotten" holiday lately.

Funny, I was never a fan of Thanksgiving.  Not because I favor underdogs, but I am cheering on Thanksgiving.  

No judgement here, want to put a tree up in July, your house, enjoy it.

But I just think we have kicked Thanksgiving to the curb.

When I was a young girl, it was without question, the worst holiday in our home.  I have written about it several times.  Trust me, we had so much to be thankful for but it was the day.

Thanksgiving was the ONLY holiday we spent with my dad's side of the family.  We barely made it through that one day.

Here's the Reader's Digest version, our "step grandmother was a career woman (back when women her age were not), she NEVER stopped talking, she didn't like kids, she was not a homemaker, she was bitchy and she could not cook or bake.

Our other grandmother was funny as hell, was a fabulous baker and cook, (my great grandmother as well) loved kids, and her house was clean.  Even though we ate in the basement at her house, the basement was immaculate.

My dad would leave the house early to "drive deer". In later years, he would take Todd with him.

If my mom said be home at 10am, they routinely would be home at 11:30am.  This no doubt started a huge argument.  Funny thing is, these were my dad's parents and even he didn't want to be there. 

So the guys would get home late, have to shower and we would "be behind schedule".  So ironic now looking back, and I will get to why it is ironic.

Then, on the twenty-minute drive to the grandparent's home, my dad would totally continue to push my mom over the edge by doing things like going down the highway, opening his door while driving 55 MPH and spitting his tobacco juice.  I can hear her now yelling at him.  And of course, we could never go directly there.  We had to go on a back road because he "a 10 pointer at the edge of the woods" and as we approached the spot, he would always say "no talking, you will scare him."  My mom never understood that was his way of getting to stop talking.

It didn't matter if I was 8 or 18, as we made this journey together in the car, knowing the final destination, my butt cheeks would tighten and I would be so stressed out knowing that my cousins were at my mamaw's having fun an eating good food and I would be entering the "geriatric Twilight Zone" with shitty food.

We never knew that cast of characters.  Jack and Dorothy (we loved Dorothy, Jack was a couple notches up from Walter Matthau, and were my dad's aunt and uncle), Roz, who was maybe two years older than me, graduated college at 18 and was some nuclear something and we had ZERO in common, Peg (who totally understood that I was miserable being there and why I was miserable) and her dentures that were too big for her mouth and she would smack them when she spoke...seriously can still hear that sound 50 years later and some other cameo appearance guests.

I would say hello, heard how tall I had gotten or grown up and beeline to the back bedroom to build a jigsaw puzzle.  I spent the entire day in the back bedroom listening to at least seven people with hearing challenges trying to converse.  I will give Betty (the bitchy grandmother) credit, she always bought great jigsaw puzzles.

My mom would always say on the way over there, "I can promise you this, when we walk in, you will not smell turkey because it will not even be in the oven yet. She says we are eating and 4, who wants to take bets?  I am betting on 7".  But we had to be on time.  The irony.

The dining room table always looked like a photo from Southern Living, maybe even cover worthy.  But, as my dad would say "yeah, but the food sucks."

The room was too small and crammed and she crammed us all in there and whenever anybody cut their food, the whole table and chandelier would shake and you could actually see the crystals on the chandelier hitting one another.  I used to cut food just to see this.

Above our dinner plates, were the salad plates, with wilted lettuce with a green jello salad on it with carrots in it.  I swear on my kids, I NEVER, EVER, ate that salad.  Because it was my job to clear the dishes afterward, trust me, I was not alone.  I know to this day if you were to mention green jello salad with carrots, my brother would instantly shake his head and go back in time to Bert Drive.

The dinner deadline always came and went.  The turkey was never done in time.  I know my mom went in to that kitchen and turned that oven up at least three times while we were there.

They always played cards and Uncle Jack would always lose and yell.  Betty always served this Chinese noodles as a snack (that I have never seen again in my life) and you could hear her chewing and Peg's dentures beating down on them.

When it was time to leave, we always passed on leftovers.  Always.  My mom had a turkey and stuffing that she made while my dad and Todd were in the woods.

The two redeeming things of the day, great jigsaw puzzle (which I always completed) and the Islay's vanilla ice-cream squares with the chocolate turkey in the center (do they even make those anymore?  loved them)

As years passed, I would hear others talk about Thanksgiving and how it was their favorite holiday, and they would go on and on and I swear I would just sit there and wonder what was wrong with them.  If my Thanksgiving was like this growing up, wasn't everybody's?

So, I marry my husband who loves Thanksgiving.  Seriously, we are total opposites. Every year as the holiday approached, there was conversation about the day.  No real traditions.  My dad was an only child and my mom one of three...we were a more condensed family.  Easy to manage and plan.  My husband, one of nine.  Not as easy to organize.  

So, I took the bull by the horns and begrudgingly started our Thanksgiving traditions.

And it wasn't always easy.  We had a couple rough years there for a while (summer camp) but we did it.  My sister-in-law would come, and we did parades and Flotillas.  But a funny thing happened, kids started to have jobs, sports, college, and the whole circle of life thing happened, and the traditions changed again.

One year, when I was really on a mission to have a great Thanksgiving, I bought some turkey dishes at Ross.

I don't know why, I just did.  And occasionally, I would find these plates or salad plates at Marshalls or TJ MAX, and I added to the collection.

A few months ago, Walker mentioned that when I pass, he would like those dishes.  OMG.  I felt like I had accomplished something.  He wanted the turkey dishes.  Bonus.  I shopped on every app like Poshmark or Mercari trying to find extra pieces.  I was so happy.  Wow, a man wanting dishes.  Who knew?

Maybe Bitchy Betty had it right all along.  Maybe it was the table setting.  Or maybe, just like the green jello salad or the Islay's turkey, it was something that he remembered about sitting around the table on Thanksgiving at his home.

Honestly, as much as my brother and I loved being with our cousins and awesome grandparents, we don't have the stories to tell like we do from the one day of the year that haunted us for a whole year afterward.

I think for women, it is everything leading up to the big days that makes us crazy and thrive.  New dishes, a tablecloth, wreath, recipe, guest, the perfect wrapping paper and ribbon, whatever it is, that is part of the magic of the holiday.  And when it finally gets here, we just want peace and to relax and chill with the magic.  But maybe the magic can be as simple as a slab of vanilla ice-cream with a chocolate turkey in it. (searched for hours to find an image of this)

My mom always taught us to invite anyone or everyone that you know, who doesn't have a table to sit at, to be at your table.  Over the years, one of our traditions has been to invite those who do not have a table to go to.  But this year, as folks age or have children and grandchildren, whatever the reason, it is just us.  (plus, Steve).

"Mom, you still need a tablecloth on the table", I was reminded. I guess she noticed that was the only day we used a tablecloth.

As I watch Christmas decorations go up and people posting about putting up their Christmas trees, I just want to sit with my pumpkin spice candles burning and say "chill, Christmas will still be there. Let's celebrate the Mayflower. 

Two of my kids will be at the table, fresh from college with tons of dirty laundry, my husband is well, my other child is well and thriving.  The sun still sets and comes up again.  When there is darkness, the light comes.  We have a baby coming to our family, a wedding and a graduation.  Lots to look forward to and celebrate.

Let us be thankful. 

 As I was writing, it popped into my head that there was a journey on a ship to another country that gave us Thanksgiving.  It was a journey on a donkey that gave us Christmas.

I just rode in my car to Ross to get my new beginning.  Let us be Thankful. 

Falling Leaves and Tears

 As long as I live, I will always consider Pennsylvania my home. I am a Westmoreland County girl who bleeds back and gold and as much as I love Coastal Carolina, during October, I miss home.

Fall makes me homesick.   And this year, it is even worse.  I felt like my mother was calling. 

When we were kids, we were bundled up at the bus stop in the morning but ripping our jackets off, running home, to be outside and play before the sun went down.  

I would sit in school and watch the leaves fall with a smile.  My mom would pack soup in our thermoses and molasses cookies.  Fall.

On Sundays, my mom would slide that pork roast into the oven, then we went to church, and had to be home before Steeler Kick-Off.  Pork roast, sauerkraut and mashed potatoes, our Sunday staple.  Some days, we went and picked up leaves, perfect leaves, in assorted colors and then come home and press them in wax paper.  I loved that smell.  My mom would let the wax soak in and then trim them neatly and use as decorations.  I loved those days.  

I would crack my bedroom window open at night so my pillow would get super cold and it was the best sleep ever.

My brother and I rocked the Delmont Halloween Parade.  My mom, with the help of my mamaw, would make our costumes.  One year I was Santa and my brother an Elf.  So cute.

Another year, Jolly Green Giant and Todd was Little Sprout.  

My personal favorite was me as Pinocchio and Todd, Jiminy Cricket.  

We won three consecutive years.

Nothing screamed success like a Five-dollar bill and a cup of warm apple cider as the winners of the parade.

 On Halloween my dad would put about 12 kids in the back of the Ford Truck as we went all through Bel Aire Manor dragging our pillowcases.  

I can still see my mom on the floor in the family room, digging through the candy.  Ironically, her favorite candy, they were always the ones that were opened and "Not safe to eat."

My dad would grab Milk Duds when possible.

Truly, one of the greatest nights of the year.

Halloween also signals the end of October, Thanksgiving, hunting season and Christmas were right around the corner.

When my kids were little, we always had a "Fall Trip" to the north.  Hayrides in Maryland, Pumpkin Farms and Corn Mazes, Hershey Park and even Gettysburg.  We loved those trips.

Last weekend, I made the trip to my college alma mater, West Virginia University, to see my son and some of my dear friends from WVU for Homecoming.  

As I drove from North Carolina thru West Virginia, I loved looking at the foliage. Gorgeous.

I couldn't help but be melancholy...  This no doubt was going to be my last WVU football game for a long time. Walker will be graduating so I need to get to Knoxville more next year. The trips back to Pennsylvania, in the next couple years, could be counted on one hand.  

Things were changing.  My mom was gone, and my stepfather has moved on.  Walker will be graduating and starting his journey.  Only my lovely Aunt Judy and two cousins were left back in Pennsylvania.  It was all different now. So very different.  Years had turned into decades and while it seemed like yesterday, we were having a Halloween Party at Delmont Elementary School or I was partying like rockstar at WVU, my favorite month was breaking my heart. 

Seriously, my mom was just on her hands and knees separating candy and then hiding it so we would only eat one piece per day and now she was a permanent fixture in the Twin Valley Memorial Cemetary.  

I enjoyed the weekend immensely, time with my son, best friend and her family and the same old stories came up again with the same laughs.  A great time was had by all.

On the way home on Sunday, my GPS took me on a road that was out of the world.  The leaves, the wind, the mountains, it didn't any better until I rounded a corner and was greeted by immense Wind Turbines (my family is obsessed with them). The sun was trying to come out with a million colors in the background.  

I needed to pee (what else is new) and I found this adorable little roadside stand.  I went inside and was overwhelmed with the smell of freshly perked coffee.  I made my coffee and saw Amanda come out of the kitchen with 12 warm apple fritters in wax paper. (I love wax paper).

I decided to live on the edge and order an apple fritter.  Seriously, seriously, it was so delicious. I ate it in my car and would have loved to go back in and order several more.  My mamaw would have loved these.  

Instead of being melancholy, I became happy.  Certainly, happy that I was seeing this amazing sight but also feeling very blessed about the future, my niece is expecting the first baby in the family and the shower is this weekend.  We are so excited.  The circle of life.  

My accent will never become one of a Southern Belle and I will never swap out my black and gold for any other colors, but it did "hit me" that my Pennsylvania roots were becoming very distant memories.  My cousin and I had just had a conversation about how there were just a few of us who really remembered "those good old days."  I guess it is not the amount of people who remembered them, but the quality of the memories. 

 As I came down and around the mountains and into city traffic, reality set into my heart. My mom's passing has had a profound impact on me. I never wanted to be the matriarch in our tiny family, for obvious reasons.  And yet, here I was.  Maybe the reason the memories were so crisp is because they were so important.  There was so much love in all those memories.  It was my task to make sure it was all repeated.  

I looked in the rearview mirror and saw the mountains, mighty and lovely.  I looked in front of me and saw the flat road. My home was in front of me.  My memories were behind me.  

I still love falling leaves.  No matter where I am. 

The "Real Life " Drop off, Not the Cinematic Drop off.

 Two years ago (and 4 days), we dropped our "baby girl" off at Greir Hall at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville.  I don't know what I expected, a warm embrace filled with "I love you, let your personality shine and make good choices" uttered in her ear, with a group picture but what I expected and what we got were two different stories.

So, this blog serves as an ALERT TO ALL PARENTS OF DAUGHTERS DURING COLLEGE DROP OFFS and please do not pass judgement on my family.

The weeks before drop off day, I noticed one thing.... Amazon Boxes.   You would have thought it was early December.  But my daughter was in control, focused and organized.  (a sentence I will never write about the males in my family).  Anyway, those boxes were filled with hangers, shelves on wheels, art, who knows.  She was on a mission.  

As we planned the drop off, I informed them that we were stopping overnight in Asheville for dinner at the Grove Park Inn and then a morning tour of the Biltmore and then on to Knoxville later in the day.  All was good.  

Have you ever heard the expression, "ten pounds of sugar in a five-pound bag?"  That is what our car looked like the night before we left.  It was crammed.  Crammed.  With what, I am not all together certain, but it was crammed.  

We got up the next morning on time, I did not have to throw a "mom fit" about getting out of bed on time and I felt set up for success.  

Two men in the front, my daughter on the driver's side of the car (which really taunts my left-handed dominance, but I let it go) and me on the passenger's side with a plastic white laundry basket on my lap with no vision whatsoever and a case of waters between Addie and me that made more noise than the ERAS tour.

Please note, in my older years, I have developed a pretty bad case of anxiety in the car when others drive.  It is not because I am not driving, it is because I spend more time looking at the road than the driver.  I am a wreck.  So, I set in the backseat to spare us all.  Now with a plastic trash can on my lap, with limited vision, I was not as bad as I usually can be.  There were still several gasps, "WATCH" (that infuriates my husband) and reaching for anything above my head and pressing the imaginary brake.  I am a real joy in the car.

Grove Park in, SUCCESS.  Dinner, Success.  Biltmore, Success, I was winning the drop off at this point.

We rolled into Knoxville in plenty of time and sunshine and decided to take a quick tour.  Three of us had never been to Knoxville.  (That is another blog).  Anyway, nice city, big city and I did begin to get a little nervous.  This was a city. We live in a tiny town.  Only traffic is beach traffic...mini vans and Jeep Wranglers but I kept it together.  I did notice that Addie had that look of "I don't remember any of this" but she stayed calm.  It was a city.  No campus. And then we saw 14,000 little cheerleaders coming out of a building.  It was the national little cheerleading competition weekend.

We check in at the hotel.  All those little cheerleaders, fifty-dollar hair bows and all, along with the parents, were at the hotel.  

Walker wanted to work out, dad wanted a nap.  The "my daughter is really possessed by the devil side came out" because she could not believe her dad wanted a nap or Walker wanted to move his body.  I calm her down and say, "let's make the last trip to Wal-Mart and get out of here."

This is where I started to lose the drop off.

Not sure why or how, but my kids have always been fascinated or intrigued by homeless people or as they called them, hobos.  Since they were little.  We would drive through or around a city and they were on "hobo watch."  No judging.

We pull into the shabby looking Wal-Mart and of course, the first thing she sees, a female hobo.  "I have made a mistake.  I cannot go to school here.  They have hobos.  I am not staying here."

"Addie, there are homeless in Cedar Point, NC.  You are going to school here.  Relax."

We walk into Wal-Mart and when those doors opened up, I became the world's least intelligent person.

"Get your list out".

"I don't need a list, nobody has a list, I know what I need."

"Ok, what do you need first?"

"Command strips".

"Ok, I am sure there is a huge center aisle display for Command Strips".

"No mom, there is not."

And so, it goes.

She finds a few things and then runs the cart into the center aisle Command Strip display.  I turned my head and laughed.  She picks what she wants and says, "are you going to get me snacks like you did Walker?"

Of course, I was but what I didn't know walking into Wal-Mart, all of the schools were starting on Monday.  High schools, middle, elementary, day cares and a huge university were all starting on Monday.  This Wal-Mart looked like Eastern NC when we get a hurricane.

So, I say, "want some bananas and peanut butter?"

My daughter eats peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon, tons of it.  She lived on bananas as a child.  

Her response, "No I hate bananas and really hate peanut butter.  What is wrong with you mom?"

"Well, what is it that you would like to eat?"

"I don't know.  I just need you to leave me alone because you are rushing me".

I whipped out my debit card, gave her the limit and said, "shop away."

I walked out to the car, happy as a clam that I was relieved of duty.

I move the car closer to the entrance and see her coming. She had to wheel past the hobo and I am sorry but I am slapping the steering wheel while I was laughing  I got out of the car and helped her load and I peeked into one of the bags to see water, peanut butter and bananas.

When we get into the car, i notice that she has a large stash of cash.  "OMG, what are you doing with all that cash, we need to get it into your account"...you know the rant.

So, on the way back to the hotel, we pass her bank...and I pull in. The ATM was in front of the bank...where, there was a van parked, filled with landscape employees, and one of the employees was making a transaction.

She freaks.  "They are going to rob us. I am not putting my money in the bank.  They need to leave, blah, blah, blah."

So, we wait until they have driven home and showered (I swear it felt that long) and finally she deposits her cash.

Back to the hotel.  

As we pull in, one of the mini cheerleader dads is standing outside his minivan smoking a joint.  (I seriously was ready to ask him for a hit).

Anyway, she sees him and loses it because she is now convinced that Dope Smoking Dad is going to break into our car and take the plastic trash can with 2 -24 packs of water and some fruit snacks.  I tell her to relax and let's go eat dinner.

We get to the hotel and the fellows are ready to eat.  I announce that we are walking to dinner.  Walking being the key word.  Walking, imagine walking after a three-hour car ride?  Walking.  Two blocks.

She went crazy, crazy the entire time we walked to the restaurant.  

After dinner, the two asked if they could take the car and explore.  As I ordered another cocktail, we said, "Of course."

They left; we ordered cocktails.

We go back to the hotel, and they pull in.

They were so excited.  They found the campus.  Euphoric.  I had euphoric kids.

We locked our car to prevent Dope Smoking Dad from breaking in for the coveted trash can and retired for the night.  

I had rebounded and was winning the drop off again. 

We woke up for the big move in day. 

We were scheduled to move in at 10am.  

We leave the hotel.  As we approach our destination, my husband decides to pull over for a cup of coffee and Walker needs to use the bathroom.  They leave the car...she loses it.  (This time I kind of got it.)

They come back to the car, and she is hot.  Addie is really hot.  And it is now a few minutes after ten and she really thinks that they are not going to let her move in because we are late.

As we turn the corner to her dorm, the traffic jam was like we were living in NYC.

Seriously, a five hour back up.  The stress in the car was immense.  Nobody would speak.  My butt cheeks were so tense I could have opened a coke bottle with them.

I could not take it anymore, so I got out of the car and started walking toward the dorm to see what we needed to do. It was Africa hot outside the car.  I was sweating but smiling at the same time.

There were minivans, trucks and SUV packed to the prim.  Unreal, the scene was unreal.  I discovered what we needed to do and where we needed to be and returned to the car. 

I could tell when I got in that there had been a serious meltdown.  So, I glad I was just a victim of swamp ass and not the wrath of my daughter.

We arrive.  It seemed like a mirage for a while, but we arrived.  

We get out, I follow the signs, and was told I had to give my driver's license to get one of the big rolling boxes to carry all of our stuff. Side note, could not believe that I had to give my license for the rolling box that is bigger than our car...like how do you steal those?

We fill the rolling box and our ready to enter the dorm when the precious little Volunteer tells out that our move in time (totally different than check in time) is 3pm and we will have to broil in the sun with our contents until 3p.  It is 11am.  

I kindly tell her that there is NO way that will happen because we had to drive 9 hours home, so we could get other student to school the next day.

She agreed to let us go up the elevator.

We are like pack mules, but we find her room.  She picks her side, and the process begins.  In the room there is the mini fridge, so I reach down, plug it in and move it in front of the plug.

"Why did you move that fridge there? (With an icy edge to her voice)

"Because it has a special plug to make it cold and that is where the plug is".

"I don't want it there."

"Well, you don't have a choice" as I load waters into the fridge.

'Unplug it, I don't want it there."

I turn around to just lose it on her when I notice that the special bag of hangers, the bag ripped and there are 100 hangers laying all over this tiny room.

I reach down to pick up the hangers to prevent the ER visit and again, "what are you doing with the hangers?"

"Picking them up off the floor because right now they are layers and not hangers."  (I seriously thought this was one of the wittiest things I had ever said.  Nobody else got it.

"Mom, just stop, stop mom."

I wanted to reach for her but her brother, who had spent 10 minutes trying to get the Command strip placed EXACTLY where she wanted, thought he was finally victorious, when she said she wanted it moved a centimeter. 

That was it for me.  I grabbed my phone, a water and went out to the lobby to sit.  I was done.  I was either going to be done or push her out the little window in her room that overlooked a frat house.  Great, just great.  A frat house below her window.  

I sat there for about twenty minutes when the next victim, her dad, came down the hall.  I looked at him and laughed.  "Want a seat?'

"She's a hot mess", he said.

"Let's go eat lunch, say our goodbyes and get out of here".

"I will go get them" and he started down the hall.

We settled on Mellow Mushroom.  It was during this lunch that she confessed she was stressed out because she didn't know what position she should be in when her roommate arrived.  

We were confused by this.  "What do you mean by position?"

"I don't know how I should be laying on the bed?"

After we finished cracking up and regained our composure, she said she didn't get it.

"Addie, when you roommate comes to the door, aren't you going to get up and go to the door and open it for her?"

Seriously, we split the atom.

As we left Mellow Mushroom, Walker walks in between us and says, "we are almost there, we can do this".  I cracked up.

We approach the dorm and pull right up in the front and we park and get out.  

This was it, the final moment.

A policeman comes over and says, "sorry, you cannot park here".

We explain that we are dropping her off and this was our goodbye, and we would just be a minute.  He asks if we would like our picture taken together.  (How nice of him)

Of course, we say yes, and we all get close, and he takes the picture.

As Franklin goes back to say thank you and get his phone, my independent, sassy, zesty daughter starts bawling as she hugs her brother and then says, "I have made a mistake, I don't want to go in there, I want to go home".

Walker, who has some big eyes, looks at me with the biggest eyes I have ever seen and whispers, "mom what are you going to do?"

I yell at Franklin to come hug his child, he does, and she is now sobbing hysterically, and I grab her, turn her around to the door and say, "behind that door is a whole new adventure.  you are going to have the adventure."

I 100 percent meant what I said.  I also was 100 percent sure I was not repacking, loading and riding home with her.  No way.  She was staying.

She turned around and went inside.

About an hour later, she called.  She read a letter I had left her with a package, cried, took a nap and woke up cause her roommate called and was arriving a day early.  She was excited.

It was not a Hallmark movie, but I won the drop off.  

It will be what it is supposed to be. Good luck parents and Go VOLS.

BARBIE

 I overheard two young gentlemen at the counter, "what is with all the BARBIE hype this summer?"  

I laughed and thought to myself, they don't have sisters.

I was a lover of BARBIES.  And everyone I knew was too.

I do not remember exactly how old I was when I discovered the magic of Barbie, but I am guessing second grade.

I had a Barbie, Talking Barbie, Cousin Stacy from England who also talked, Skipper, Ken and several other Barbies over the years.

During summer vacation, we sat on the concrete slab of our front porch and played Barbies for hours.   The front porch was for Barbies and the back porch was for Tonkas.

Girls would arrive mid-morning, after chores were done and we gathered our BARBIE cases and opened them, and the day began.

It was on the that cool, summer concrete slab that my grandmother said to us, "girls you are going to get hemorrhoids from sitting on that cool concrete all the time".  I have been worried about that most of my life that my Barbie obsession would come back to bite me with hemorrhoids.

Somedays, when we had several girls, we would break out the chalk and draw parking spaces for our Barbie cars and Ken cars.  We thought we were Pinterest worthy with that creative spark.

Every day, the porch was full of girls and their Barbies.  We spent most of the day dressing Barbie and never being able to get or keep her shoes on.  Ken would come over and they would kiss and then we would stick Kleenex up Barbies dress because she was having a baby.  Daily.  Barbie delivered a child daily.  Ken was the world's biggest sperm donor.

My grandmother sewed.  She sewed everything. I did not get store bought Barbie clothes.  "I can make it", said my grandmother and she did.

 I remember going to Troutman's and picking out Barbie patterns with her.  Any scraps of material became a Barbie frock or a bedspread or a blanket of even a little dress for Skipper.  

I was lucky that I had a brother who had G.I. Joe and a Wild, Wild West man.  Those two fellows would always come and see Barbie via tank or horse.  We made sure there were parking spaces for the tank and the horse.

One morning, Laurie from the top of the hill, was joining the girls at the bottom of the hill for a Barbie session.  Laurie opened her Barbie case and had hangers and a very organized case.

As she was dressing Barbie, I noticed a flowered slip she put on her Barbie before the dress.  I was obsessed with the slip.  Obsessed.

It was break time and my mom came out with TANG in paper cups.  She wanted to make sure we were hydrated but never mentioned how we were going to need Preparation H in about ten years.  Anyway, somebody spilled TANG.  It went everywhere.  As were gathering up our TANG-soaked clothes, I accidentally (wink, wink) slipped the flower slip into my case.  

Later in the day, my mom asked for my Barbie clothes.  She was going to wash them, so we didn't have ants.  No ants but hemorrhoids were ok.

She noticed the slip immediately.  After it was washed and dried, I had to make the trip up the hill to deliver it back to Laurie.  Ugh.  I was pissed.  But it was hers.

One Christmas, I asked for the BARBIE Dream house.  It was the two story one.  I could not wait.  It was the only page I folded down in the SEARS catalogue.  I had to have the Barbie Dream House.  It was the Barbie Dream House that taught me the truth about Santa Claus.

Apparently, the Barbie Dream House was assembled in the attic.  Great hiding place.  When my father was carrying it out of the attic, and down the "pull attic stairs", he tripped.  All of this took place right outside my bedroom door.

Cuss words, my mom shhhing him, the reassembly, all of it, right outside of my bedroom door.

I was horrified.  No Santa.  No jingle bells from the roof.  No magic.  And my only gift was ruined.

But there was magic the next morning.  As we leaned into the family room, lit tree and all, there she stood.  My Barbie Dream House.  Magnificent.  I did notice that one of the walls was crinkled after the big fall, but I kept my mouth shut.

And in one of the packages, real Barbie clothes in the Barbie packaging.  I was so happy.

It wasn't the Barbie doll that I loved.  It was the companionship when playing Barbies. We came together with a commonality.  Your Barbie could do and be anything you wanted her to be, or not.  If you were happy with her delivering a baby daily, so be it.  If you wanted her to teach school, great.  You were her voice.

Barbie taught me how to be a friend and how to keep friends.  Barbie taught me hand eye coordination because dressing that stiff plastic doll was a bitch.  She taught me to take care of my things and keep them organized and neat in that Barbie case.  She also taught me if you were not happy with the man in your life, check out cowboys or Marines, just go get a better man.  And Barbie taught me to entertain myself.  I could be happy and entertained all by myself and Barbie.

I am looking forward to watching the movie.  And I will be sitting in a comfortable chair instead of cool concrete.  

"Next Contestant on the Mom Shame Game Show"

*** Total transparency, good friends chatting, wine may or may not have been involved and I did tell my friends I was blogging about this...not them...the topic.

So, ladies' night.  And of course, there are the following topics, kids, husbands, parents, prices of groceries, weight gain and loss, aging and then this topic "what are your kids doing this summer?"

All of the kids are college students.  Answers are "Interning at Disney in the marketing department", "Interning in NYC at this finance company," Interning at Google", "Interning the City government finance department" and "interning at Ferry system".

"Stephanie, where is Walker interning?"

"Oh, he isn't.  He's going to Colorado with Addie to work on a dude ranch."

"WHAT! He's not interning.  Are you ok with this?

"Yes, I am very ok with this."

"He's never going to get a job."  (Obviously the overly dramatic friend)

"Never going to get a job?  Come on now ladies? I responded.

"He will be fine.  He will be in a new state, totally different surroundings and people, he will grow and seriously, when will he ever get to do anything like this again with his sister and get paid?'

"He's not going to get a job in his major."

"Oh, please....my friend was a sports broadcasting major and owns an antique store.  HE WILL BE FINE."

Now look, I understand the value and the importance of internships.  Had one myself.  I do.  I also understand that this was a once in a lifetime chance with a sibling.  And family rates over the internship.

Love my girlfriends and I totally understand why they think it is important for an accounting major, finance, marketing major, whatever to get an internship, I totally understand.  A Political Science major, he will be fine.  

We laughed about the mom shaming but this time it was different for me.  While I do understand the need for internships (are you getting the message that I understand the need for internships), I also understand the need for close bonds between siblings, new experiences, once in a lifetime opportunity and finding yourself.  

Work will always be there.  Always.  

Square Dancing with your sister where cellphones do not work, that is not going to happen very often.  

This whole conversation stayed with me for a few days...not because I was mad, unsure of his decision, or apprehensive, but because I wonder where the fun has gone?  Everywhere you turn there are signs of mental illness and depression, young and old, teenage suicides off the charts, outcries for help...do I need to go on?

I work about 60 hours a week.  Obscene I know but that is what it takes.  On Friday nights, I usually am in bed, sober, before 9.  Exhausted.  By Sunday night at 6pm, I get that sick feeling in my gut because Monday is coming.  

I want my kids to find themselves and find pure joy.  I want them to see amazing sunsets and sunrises with amazing people before they have to take another TEAMS call or apply lipstick for a ZOOM meeting.  

Life is so short, and it is going by faster and maybe if we all slowed down, square danced a bit and didn't spend most of the day glancing at our phones, we would all be a little happier and healthier.  

My kids will be fine.  Or maybe they won't.  Who knows?  We never really know anyway.  One thing I do know, you are only young once. Adventures stay with you forever.

I sit in my empty house and wish I would hear all three kids flying down the steps again.  The only noise in my house now, is the noise my bones make when I walk up the steps and then me gripping the handrail when I come down.

While I was writing this, Walker called.  He sounded exhausted.  

"Are you having fun?"

"Yes, love it here.  Me and Addie are having so much fun and we are building a great team of workers.  I am so glad I did this Mom". 

Do I think the interning folks are going to call their moms and say the same things, yes I do.

But my kid rode a horse to work today. (Take that mom shamming friends)

Years ago, and it does seem like a lifetime, I was at the high school with the Button.  The principal saw me shaking my head and he called me over and asked me this question, "Ever seen a mother duck in the pond with her babies?  Notice how there is always one going the wrong way, not paying attention to the mom, looking all around?"

"Yes, of course."

"It is not how they get across the pond that matters; it is that they get across the pond."

Will never forget that little piece of parental advice from a principal.

I'm going to support my kids getting across the pond, even if it takes them longer to get across.  And if it takes them longer because they are watching an elk or moose, that's find with me.