the story of kids,chaos, mothering challenges and sometimes chocolate
Thursday, July 25, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Summer Time
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Summer Time: Summer time. Sum, sum, summer time. Yesterday, Walker told me that his summer was boring. All the electronics, TVs, Netflix and his sum...
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Summer Time
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Summer Time: Summer time. Sum, sum, summer time. Yesterday, Walker told me that his summer was boring. All the electronics, TVs, Netflix and his sum...
Summer Time
Summer time. Sum, sum, summer time.
Yesterday, Walker told me that his summer was boring. All the electronics, TVs, Netflix and his summer is boring.
It made me spend a lot of time thinking about summer's past, when I was a kid.
Our days always started early, with chores. I swear, my mom lay ed awake at night and thought of chores. If you didn't do your chores, you couldn't go to my aunt's to swim. Incentive. We worked like beavers. Going to that pool, with our cousins was better than being on a cruise ship.
On rainy days, my mom would start her day at the kitchen table and talk on the phone. The conversation would go like this, "I am so tired, I have no energy....well, nothing in this rain."
And somewhere between that line became a burst of energy that I never quite understood. My mom would hang up that phone and she would yell, "take a shower, make the beds, run the sweeper and be ready in ten minutes we are going to the mall." I swear, we got that all done and my mom would even throw something in the oven for dinner...all that with no energy. Then just like clockwork, my aunt or Mona showed up, every time. "Ripping" is what we named this.
When we didn't swim, we went to Summer Rec, translation, Travel Kickball. We would walk the trail to White Valley School and play kickball. I can still feel that rubber ball on my fingertips. We played for hours and we loved it. We played against other teams at schools and we thought we were the bomb.
Sometimes, we would go to my mamaw's for the day. She would give us old bedspreads and we would clothespin them to the maple tree in the backyard and make a fort. This was our house. Some of us lived in that house and the others lived on the back porch. We played house for hours.
Long before Pintrest was Linda Bahneman. When my mom poured grape tang in a metal ice tray, I thought she was the most creative woman EVER. Genius. We would eat those wrapped in napkins and they would stick to the ice cube but we didn't care.
We would pack our lunches and venture out on a hike. This hike was a trail that went through the garbage dump and then we ate along side a sewage creek. This was my brother's favorite journey. The dump was home to discarded Playboy magazines. My brother would bake in the son, surrounded by garbage to read what turn on's the Playmate of the month liked. Nothing says fun like a garbage dump, centerfolds and rats. But we went.
When we got older, my mom would let us walk to the Delmont Pharmacy, Home of the candy aisle. And later, zit cream aisle. This walk was through woods, empty fields, new construction, and took forever, three hours. I never understood why my mom let us go. Three hours of summertime solitude. I get it now.
When my mom was in a good mood, she busted out the hoses. The best, water fights with hoses. I love a good water battle with a long hose.
Living in Pittsburgh, there wasn't a need for whole house air conditioning. Thus, we had a window unit in my parent's bedroom. This was key. That single window unit guaranteed family time. We would all gather in that room, in our jammies and watch Ed Sullivan, Disney, Mary Tyler Moore and Happy Days.
Jacks. We sat on the cool concrete on our front porch for hours. Onsies, twosies, threesies. We each had our own pouch with our jacks in them, multi colored super balls and played were hours. I loved jacks. And, even though we sat on cool concrete, I never got a single hemorrhoid.
Barbies. Just good old fashioned Barbies. Not "corporate Barbie" or "Spray tanned Barbie", just Barbie, in her case and her dresses made from by mamaw. Ken and Barbie always kissed and then we would shove a Kleenex up Barbie's dress and then we had "knocked up" Barbie. Same routine but we were entertained.
And then there were sleepovers. I can still feel the metal frame from Joan's pull out sofa bed in the basement and smell Patty T's bedroom. We would listen to the radio, read magazines and call people on rotary phones, and actually talk to them. Every time I hear, "the night Chicago died, " I think of summer.
And then we could drive. The summer we could all drive, GREASE came out. I piled tons of girls in the big black Cadillac and on my 8 track tape player, we would jam to GREASE. Every song, every track. We even pulled out the Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack. We drove around singing. It was awesome.
Yes, I think Walker is right, his summer is boring.
Yesterday, Walker told me that his summer was boring. All the electronics, TVs, Netflix and his summer is boring.
It made me spend a lot of time thinking about summer's past, when I was a kid.
Our days always started early, with chores. I swear, my mom lay ed awake at night and thought of chores. If you didn't do your chores, you couldn't go to my aunt's to swim. Incentive. We worked like beavers. Going to that pool, with our cousins was better than being on a cruise ship.On rainy days, my mom would start her day at the kitchen table and talk on the phone. The conversation would go like this, "I am so tired, I have no energy....well, nothing in this rain."
And somewhere between that line became a burst of energy that I never quite understood. My mom would hang up that phone and she would yell, "take a shower, make the beds, run the sweeper and be ready in ten minutes we are going to the mall." I swear, we got that all done and my mom would even throw something in the oven for dinner...all that with no energy. Then just like clockwork, my aunt or Mona showed up, every time. "Ripping" is what we named this.
When we didn't swim, we went to Summer Rec, translation, Travel Kickball. We would walk the trail to White Valley School and play kickball. I can still feel that rubber ball on my fingertips. We played for hours and we loved it. We played against other teams at schools and we thought we were the bomb.
Sometimes, we would go to my mamaw's for the day. She would give us old bedspreads and we would clothespin them to the maple tree in the backyard and make a fort. This was our house. Some of us lived in that house and the others lived on the back porch. We played house for hours.
Long before Pintrest was Linda Bahneman. When my mom poured grape tang in a metal ice tray, I thought she was the most creative woman EVER. Genius. We would eat those wrapped in napkins and they would stick to the ice cube but we didn't care.
We would pack our lunches and venture out on a hike. This hike was a trail that went through the garbage dump and then we ate along side a sewage creek. This was my brother's favorite journey. The dump was home to discarded Playboy magazines. My brother would bake in the son, surrounded by garbage to read what turn on's the Playmate of the month liked. Nothing says fun like a garbage dump, centerfolds and rats. But we went.
When we got older, my mom would let us walk to the Delmont Pharmacy, Home of the candy aisle. And later, zit cream aisle. This walk was through woods, empty fields, new construction, and took forever, three hours. I never understood why my mom let us go. Three hours of summertime solitude. I get it now.
When my mom was in a good mood, she busted out the hoses. The best, water fights with hoses. I love a good water battle with a long hose.
Living in Pittsburgh, there wasn't a need for whole house air conditioning. Thus, we had a window unit in my parent's bedroom. This was key. That single window unit guaranteed family time. We would all gather in that room, in our jammies and watch Ed Sullivan, Disney, Mary Tyler Moore and Happy Days.
Jacks. We sat on the cool concrete on our front porch for hours. Onsies, twosies, threesies. We each had our own pouch with our jacks in them, multi colored super balls and played were hours. I loved jacks. And, even though we sat on cool concrete, I never got a single hemorrhoid.
Barbies. Just good old fashioned Barbies. Not "corporate Barbie" or "Spray tanned Barbie", just Barbie, in her case and her dresses made from by mamaw. Ken and Barbie always kissed and then we would shove a Kleenex up Barbie's dress and then we had "knocked up" Barbie. Same routine but we were entertained.
And then there were sleepovers. I can still feel the metal frame from Joan's pull out sofa bed in the basement and smell Patty T's bedroom. We would listen to the radio, read magazines and call people on rotary phones, and actually talk to them. Every time I hear, "the night Chicago died, " I think of summer.
And then we could drive. The summer we could all drive, GREASE came out. I piled tons of girls in the big black Cadillac and on my 8 track tape player, we would jam to GREASE. Every song, every track. We even pulled out the Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack. We drove around singing. It was awesome.
Yes, I think Walker is right, his summer is boring.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Greeting Cards
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Greeting Cards: I am come from a "card sending" family. A trip to Hallmark is in my monthly budget. My mother is a card sender, my mamaw was a ...
Greeting Cards
I am come from a "card sending" family. A trip to Hallmark is in my monthly budget.
My mother is a card sender, my mamaw was a card sender, my great grandmother was a card sender....we send cards. For any reason.
I have two friends that are card senders too, Amy and Joyce. I can see Amy standing in even the Hardware store looking at cards if they sell them.
"If you want a card, you need to send cards." That is my mom's motto.
To this day, if my mom calls me with the "dead" report, it is usually followed with, "You need to send them a card." (0bviously the surviving family member)
I have a true confession about cards.
When I was in college at WVU, there was a Hallmark store on High Street. I went there all the time. Loved that store. One year, I think I was a senior, it was right before Mother's day. I had to get cards for two aunts, two grandmothers, one great grandmother, my mom and my boyfriend's mom. I had no money. No money for four more days. And mother's day was approaching. The biggest card sending day in my family. They would call one another, they would compare the cards, they would save them, it was the mother (no pun intended) of all card sending days.
So, I did it. I shoplifted. I slipped those cards in my folder and walked out of the Hallmark store. Feeling badly but I had shoplifted for the first time. I made it all the way to the Tastee Freeze on High street when I was tapped on the shoulder. I turned around, and there was the owner of the store. He said, "you are going to need stamps to go with those cards."
My first attempt at a life of crime and I got caught. Yes, I took the stamps.
When I got my check on Friday, I went in a paid the bill and through tears explained situation, my card sending gene pool and apologized. They accepted. This truly was a Hallmark commercial.
The one things about cards, sometimes they show up when you least expect them and need them the most.
Lately, I have NOT been at Peace. Let's see, I have three friends with cancer, and one who just had two surgeries, my friend just buried her 13 year old son while drug dealers live one and several of my girl friends have just buried their moms or dads or husbands and two members of my family have buried their sons. And quite frankly, I have been consumed with the "is this all there is" feeling. I am looking at my bald girl friend thinking "she really cannot be at peace with that bald head and I don't want to be at Peace cause I know she is not at peace". And then there is, "the only thing I have ever contributed in life came in the form of 15, 30 or 60 second commercials, that people hate anyway, except for SuperBowl Sunday,from fast food chains in a morbidly obese society." I wanted to be Steve Jobs or the gardener at Disney World of something. There has got to be more than this.
And then, I went to the mailbox. Tucked into the junk mail, the water bill and the "get your air ducts cleaned for $19.95 flier" was the envelope. I recognized the handwritting immediately.
I expected a "Save the Date" card for the impending nuptials.
What I got was this...
May today there be peace within you.
May you trust God that you are
exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities
that you are born of faith.
May your use those gifts that you have received,
and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing
you are a child of God.
Let this presence settlie nto your bones,
and allow your soul the freedom
to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of you.
And love.
And while I have read this before, I guess it never penetrated my heart like this before.
And I thought that perhaps my bald friend kept this in her pocket and that is why she was so at peace.
I have kept this card in my purse all week. I pulled it out this morning. I needed it. I thought about a 13 year old skate boarding in the Heaven's waking everyone up, and I got my Peace back. I just sat here, on my back porch, in my nightgown, dirty teeth, sounds of the morning and the day coming alive, a lttle rain, a little sun, flowers abound, black coffee and I got my peace back.
My friend retired from the Military yesterday after 20 years. I need to get moving and go buy him a card.
Peace.
My mother is a card sender, my mamaw was a card sender, my great grandmother was a card sender....we send cards. For any reason.
I have two friends that are card senders too, Amy and Joyce. I can see Amy standing in even the Hardware store looking at cards if they sell them.
"If you want a card, you need to send cards." That is my mom's motto.
To this day, if my mom calls me with the "dead" report, it is usually followed with, "You need to send them a card." (0bviously the surviving family member)
I have a true confession about cards.
When I was in college at WVU, there was a Hallmark store on High Street. I went there all the time. Loved that store. One year, I think I was a senior, it was right before Mother's day. I had to get cards for two aunts, two grandmothers, one great grandmother, my mom and my boyfriend's mom. I had no money. No money for four more days. And mother's day was approaching. The biggest card sending day in my family. They would call one another, they would compare the cards, they would save them, it was the mother (no pun intended) of all card sending days.
So, I did it. I shoplifted. I slipped those cards in my folder and walked out of the Hallmark store. Feeling badly but I had shoplifted for the first time. I made it all the way to the Tastee Freeze on High street when I was tapped on the shoulder. I turned around, and there was the owner of the store. He said, "you are going to need stamps to go with those cards."
My first attempt at a life of crime and I got caught. Yes, I took the stamps.
When I got my check on Friday, I went in a paid the bill and through tears explained situation, my card sending gene pool and apologized. They accepted. This truly was a Hallmark commercial.
The one things about cards, sometimes they show up when you least expect them and need them the most.
Lately, I have NOT been at Peace. Let's see, I have three friends with cancer, and one who just had two surgeries, my friend just buried her 13 year old son while drug dealers live one and several of my girl friends have just buried their moms or dads or husbands and two members of my family have buried their sons. And quite frankly, I have been consumed with the "is this all there is" feeling. I am looking at my bald girl friend thinking "she really cannot be at peace with that bald head and I don't want to be at Peace cause I know she is not at peace". And then there is, "the only thing I have ever contributed in life came in the form of 15, 30 or 60 second commercials, that people hate anyway, except for SuperBowl Sunday,from fast food chains in a morbidly obese society." I wanted to be Steve Jobs or the gardener at Disney World of something. There has got to be more than this.
And then, I went to the mailbox. Tucked into the junk mail, the water bill and the "get your air ducts cleaned for $19.95 flier" was the envelope. I recognized the handwritting immediately.
I expected a "Save the Date" card for the impending nuptials.
What I got was this...
May today there be peace within you.
May you trust God that you are
exactly where you are meant to be.
May you not forget the infinite possibilities
that you are born of faith.
May your use those gifts that you have received,
and pass on the love that has been given to you.
May you be content knowing
you are a child of God.
Let this presence settlie nto your bones,
and allow your soul the freedom
to sing, dance, praise and love.
It is there for each and every one of you.
And love.
And while I have read this before, I guess it never penetrated my heart like this before.
And I thought that perhaps my bald friend kept this in her pocket and that is why she was so at peace.
I have kept this card in my purse all week. I pulled it out this morning. I needed it. I thought about a 13 year old skate boarding in the Heaven's waking everyone up, and I got my Peace back. I just sat here, on my back porch, in my nightgown, dirty teeth, sounds of the morning and the day coming alive, a lttle rain, a little sun, flowers abound, black coffee and I got my peace back.
My friend retired from the Military yesterday after 20 years. I need to get moving and go buy him a card.
Peace.
Monday, July 1, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Keep smiling, Keep giving.
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Keep smiling, Keep giving.: Just last week, I saw a story on the news about a small community who united together after a wounded soldier returned home. They built ...
Keep smiling, Keep giving.
Just last week, I saw a story on the news about a small community who united together after a wounded soldier returned home.
They built handicapped ramps, constructed a special booth for him to still coach football and made a zip line like contraption so he could play with his kids and still be the baseball coach.
It was a community on a mission. It was amazing what the community did and came up with to help this man. This community wanted to give back to the injured soldier, former football and baseball coach.
I watched the story and was heart warmed. How cool would it be to be a part of something like this?
Saturday, as our community reeled with grief after hearing about Drew, there was one overwhelming feeling, what could we do? Everyone felt so helpless, so lost. What could we do? Of course there is always food but seriously, if everyone took a casserole, where would they store the casseroles?
And then, there it was. One of the teachers started a fund raising campaign.
I saw it on Facebook and said to Franklin, "They have started a fundraiser for Drew H."
Translation, "we are giving."
Walker heard this and said, "I have ten dollars that grandma sent me for fifth grade graduation. I will give my money."
When I placed my donation, only a few had and there was only about $1500 raised.
I watched that number like I was Jerry Lewis at this telethon. I wanted that goal to be reached and then blown away.
And as I watched, it grew. My friend delivered brownies, another mac and cheese.
And as the numbers grew, I continued to smile. As sad as we all were, we were all proud and happy to be a part of something good. Hitting that "send" button was a great feeling and we could feel like we were doing something, anything.
The first thing I did this morning was to check the number. Call me Jerry Lewis. The only thing missing was some little girl singing and doing a tap dance.
Yes! almost to the goal.
I took the time to read the names and the comments. Amazing. There was so much love on those pages as you scrolled. The teaching community and there commitment to a fellow teacher and her son gripped me.
And I couldn't help it, I smiled the whole time. There, even in his absence, I was smiling. Drew brought a smile to everyone at any time. And even in the saddest of times, people were uniting to give back to a young man because he had given.
Truly, life's greatest gift is when you can keep giving and keep people smiling after you are gone.
Thank you Drew.
They built handicapped ramps, constructed a special booth for him to still coach football and made a zip line like contraption so he could play with his kids and still be the baseball coach.
It was a community on a mission. It was amazing what the community did and came up with to help this man. This community wanted to give back to the injured soldier, former football and baseball coach.
I watched the story and was heart warmed. How cool would it be to be a part of something like this?
Saturday, as our community reeled with grief after hearing about Drew, there was one overwhelming feeling, what could we do? Everyone felt so helpless, so lost. What could we do? Of course there is always food but seriously, if everyone took a casserole, where would they store the casseroles?
And then, there it was. One of the teachers started a fund raising campaign.
I saw it on Facebook and said to Franklin, "They have started a fundraiser for Drew H."
Translation, "we are giving."
Walker heard this and said, "I have ten dollars that grandma sent me for fifth grade graduation. I will give my money."
When I placed my donation, only a few had and there was only about $1500 raised.
I watched that number like I was Jerry Lewis at this telethon. I wanted that goal to be reached and then blown away.
And as I watched, it grew. My friend delivered brownies, another mac and cheese.
And as the numbers grew, I continued to smile. As sad as we all were, we were all proud and happy to be a part of something good. Hitting that "send" button was a great feeling and we could feel like we were doing something, anything.
The first thing I did this morning was to check the number. Call me Jerry Lewis. The only thing missing was some little girl singing and doing a tap dance.
Yes! almost to the goal.
I took the time to read the names and the comments. Amazing. There was so much love on those pages as you scrolled. The teaching community and there commitment to a fellow teacher and her son gripped me.
And I couldn't help it, I smiled the whole time. There, even in his absence, I was smiling. Drew brought a smile to everyone at any time. And even in the saddest of times, people were uniting to give back to a young man because he had given.
Truly, life's greatest gift is when you can keep giving and keep people smiling after you are gone.
Thank you Drew.
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