the story of kids,chaos, mothering challenges and sometimes chocolate
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Lays Potato Chips, a phone message and Ball droppi...
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Lays Potato Chips, a phone message and Ball droppi...: When my brother and I were little, if we were good, on Friday nights, my dad would go to Cup's in Delmont and get a bag of Lays potato c...
Lays Potato Chips, a phone message and Ball dropping
When my brother and I were little, if we were good, on Friday nights, my dad would go to Cup's in Delmont and get a bag of Lays potato chips, Helluva Onion Dip and Coca Cola in bottles.
We would get our jammies on, turn on Hogan's Heroes and Gomer Pyle and sit at the fireplace hearth and have a "party." That is how we celebrated life. A party with Lays and cold Cokes in a bottle.
Lays chips and onion dip (but only Helluva onion) and become my signature comfort food in life. Along with gingerbread.
Anyway, today, after an awesome Christmas, trip to Christmas Town, trip to my brother's and the nation's capitol, it was all over, I was back to work and it all seemed like a blur.
And to make matter's worse, it was New Year's Eve, the dreaded night.
I was feeling sad the holidays were over, feeling like all that I was looking forward to was over, and the same old, "I am a loser". I always make resolutions and not since 1988 when I quit chewing my fingernails, have I been successful at completing the resolutions.
I need to lose 25 pounds, run a marathon, quit swearing, save a nest egg, take my kids to Disney, go with my husband anywhere and frame a bunch of pictures.
I was taking it all on. Resolutions, the holidays, my sister-in-laws who buried sons, my sister-in-law who lost her house, my friends who have buried their parents and my friends with cancer. Oh, and "the button." I took that on too, kind of.
I knew he wasn't in summer camp but that is all I knew. And no, we hadn't heard from him in 60 days. Funny thing is, it was nice not hearing from him, no drama, no stuff, no grief, just peace. He wasn't the elephant in the room during Christmas, he just wasn't there. He is off doing research.
So, just when I was about to have a car cry, I swung into the Food Lion because Old Mother Hubbard at least had a bone. I needed groceries.
I went straight for Lays chips. I needed comfort.
Anyway, I regrouped on the way home. No car cry.
I got home and I went into "mother mode". I had dinner to get ready, kids to shuffle, etc.
In the middle of this hustle, my phone rang. "Private." I have a client, a pain in the neck client that shows up that way so I blew it off. It rang again and again, "Private."
I still didn't pick up.
I finished my tasks and later listened to the message that was left.
"Hello mom, it is your son, the "button." (why do kids always say, hey mom, it so....like we cannot figure it out?)
I am calling to wish you a Merry Christmas, Happy new Year and tell you I love you and I miss you. I am safe. I am doing my thing. Tell Walker and Addie that I love them and miss them and I have presents for them. I love you and miss you and hope to see you someday."
Hmmmmm.
I played the message for my children and they said nothing. And we just kept on keeping on. Progress.
When I reflect on the past year, there has been sadness, so many deaths and so many sick friends.
There has also been so much Hope. My friends are getting well, responding to chemo and hair is growing back and corners have been turned. My sister in law has a great place while her house is rebuilt. My husband and I have re invented ourselves professionally. Three women I know are moving on after burying their sons and my other friends who have buried parents this year, made it through the "first Christmas" without them. My dear friends got married and a kind of sort of niece delivered a lovely baby girl.
It is good to use a benchmark to reflect, regroup and reorganize and even to resolve. That is what New Year's Eve is all about.
It is okay to feel a little down, a little bloated and a little inadequate. When you are down, there is only one place to go.
So go forth and conquer, even if your knees are cracking, make the most of these next 365 days.
Treat it like a bag of chips, just reach in and grab....savor every bite and find peace and comfort, even if you cannot eat just one.
Happy New Year! Peace.
We would get our jammies on, turn on Hogan's Heroes and Gomer Pyle and sit at the fireplace hearth and have a "party." That is how we celebrated life. A party with Lays and cold Cokes in a bottle.
Lays chips and onion dip (but only Helluva onion) and become my signature comfort food in life. Along with gingerbread.
Anyway, today, after an awesome Christmas, trip to Christmas Town, trip to my brother's and the nation's capitol, it was all over, I was back to work and it all seemed like a blur.
And to make matter's worse, it was New Year's Eve, the dreaded night.
I was feeling sad the holidays were over, feeling like all that I was looking forward to was over, and the same old, "I am a loser". I always make resolutions and not since 1988 when I quit chewing my fingernails, have I been successful at completing the resolutions.
I need to lose 25 pounds, run a marathon, quit swearing, save a nest egg, take my kids to Disney, go with my husband anywhere and frame a bunch of pictures.
I was taking it all on. Resolutions, the holidays, my sister-in-laws who buried sons, my sister-in-law who lost her house, my friends who have buried their parents and my friends with cancer. Oh, and "the button." I took that on too, kind of.
I knew he wasn't in summer camp but that is all I knew. And no, we hadn't heard from him in 60 days. Funny thing is, it was nice not hearing from him, no drama, no stuff, no grief, just peace. He wasn't the elephant in the room during Christmas, he just wasn't there. He is off doing research.
So, just when I was about to have a car cry, I swung into the Food Lion because Old Mother Hubbard at least had a bone. I needed groceries.
I went straight for Lays chips. I needed comfort.
Anyway, I regrouped on the way home. No car cry.
I got home and I went into "mother mode". I had dinner to get ready, kids to shuffle, etc.
In the middle of this hustle, my phone rang. "Private." I have a client, a pain in the neck client that shows up that way so I blew it off. It rang again and again, "Private."
I still didn't pick up.
I finished my tasks and later listened to the message that was left.
"Hello mom, it is your son, the "button." (why do kids always say, hey mom, it so....like we cannot figure it out?)
I am calling to wish you a Merry Christmas, Happy new Year and tell you I love you and I miss you. I am safe. I am doing my thing. Tell Walker and Addie that I love them and miss them and I have presents for them. I love you and miss you and hope to see you someday."
Hmmmmm.
I played the message for my children and they said nothing. And we just kept on keeping on. Progress.
When I reflect on the past year, there has been sadness, so many deaths and so many sick friends.
There has also been so much Hope. My friends are getting well, responding to chemo and hair is growing back and corners have been turned. My sister in law has a great place while her house is rebuilt. My husband and I have re invented ourselves professionally. Three women I know are moving on after burying their sons and my other friends who have buried parents this year, made it through the "first Christmas" without them. My dear friends got married and a kind of sort of niece delivered a lovely baby girl.
It is good to use a benchmark to reflect, regroup and reorganize and even to resolve. That is what New Year's Eve is all about.
It is okay to feel a little down, a little bloated and a little inadequate. When you are down, there is only one place to go.
So go forth and conquer, even if your knees are cracking, make the most of these next 365 days.
Treat it like a bag of chips, just reach in and grab....savor every bite and find peace and comfort, even if you cannot eat just one.
Happy New Year! Peace.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Oooops, it came and went unnoticed
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Oooops, it came and went unnoticed: December 16, 1997, I fulfilled a life time dream. I became a mom. He was blond, blue eyed, spoke like a southern boy and he stole my he...
Oooops, it came and went unnoticed
December 16, 1997, I fulfilled a life time dream.
I became a mom.
He was blond, blue eyed, spoke like a southern boy and he stole my heart. He was four. He called me mom and all was right in my heart.
I will ALWAYS remember that day and the joy in my heart. The hopes and the dreams.
The judge said yes, you can take him home.
We had nothing for him. His room was painted pink at the time.
I remember being in Wal-mart buying a booster seat telling him that we were so excited that he was coming to live with us.
He asked about his room and we told him it was pink.
He asked, "if you were so excited about me coming, why did you paint my room pink?" Hello, foreshadowing.
He had nothing but an ELMO backpack and an outfit.
We stopped at Olive Garden on the way home to celebrate. They served him cake on a little plate. Ok. We stole the plate. It was his first entry into his baby book.
The next day, I left to find a school/day care. I left the "button" a list of chores and he and Franklin stood in the garage as I backed out. I told Franklin, "if those chores are not done, you Franklin are going into time out."
The "button" cracked up.
And our love began.
He was so attached we couldn't even teach him to ride a bike. He couldn't stand it if we were behind him. I couldn't leave him with a sitter.
Shortly after that, I had to travel over night for work. The "button" was a mess even though I explained it was just over night and I would pick him up from school.
When I showed up the next day to pick him from school, he was in the class, back to me and the teacher said, "Button, she is here."
He turned around and said, "I knew you would be the one to come back."
December 16 was a day I celebrated every year, quietly. I would give the kids their snow globes that day, all of them...just because. It was the day I became a mom. It was the "button's" birthday/conception day all in one.
The last two years, while he was in summer camp, I still gave the kids snow globes. I celebrated in my heart.
The day I became a mom, that day standing mani/pedi dates, personal trainers, airline tickets, birthdays in Paris, ski trips, Ann Taylor and Talbotts all went out the window.
The day I learned what it was to love beyond measure and appreciate finger prints, skinned knees and boys and the obsession with fart (I hate that word) noises. It changed my life.
Last year, I was so looking forward to this year. If I had read the calendar correctly, I thought I would be going to pick him up from his first semester in college. I would have the house looking like Martha Stewart lived there. His favorite part was always the garland up the steps. It would be awesome. And there would be lights on the house. I was even going to cave and allow colored lights on the outside of my house.
Hmmm....expectations will kick your ass clear into your heart.
The truth was, the day came and went. I never noticed. I had given the kids snow globes earlier. I missed the day. I missed my own little celebration of something so significant.
I don't even know where the "the button" is...the kid who crawled into the fetal position when I left him...I have no idea where he is.
I have no idea where my son is. I type the letters and shake my head.
But, it is not what you think.
Yes, I could go get in the car and search for him but why do you want to find someone who doesn't want to be found?
The reality is this, my dear friend, "t" introduced me to a fabulous group of women. I don't know their real names or will never see them but I read their stories and read their pain and their successes and their dashed expectations. The women of the naranon forum.
Those expectations were mine. I hit myself in the heart.
Substance abusers need to do research. They need to do it on their own, detach from those who love them, to show they can do without love, they have drugs until they need love in place of drugs.
Honestly, I don't even know 100% if it is the drugs but I do know and have lived through the pattern. So, if I were to bet and listen to my gut, I would go with booze and dope. I would bet that booze and dope are the two reasons that I do not know where my son is...they have accompanied him in the past when there is this pattern of behavior.
The funny thing about booze and dope...they don't nag, they don't make suggestions, hassle you, or make you be punctual. Booze and dope don't know dates and times, are always there, always comforting, they do not nag and they don't have ANY expectations.
When I realized the date, I shrugged it off. And then I said, "Hey girl, now just you wait a minute, you didn't meltdown, you didn't pick up the phone and call Franklin, or go eat chocolate...you went to the naranon forum and read. And then I celebrated. I am no longer addicted to my son's addiction.
We have detached with love. Detaching does not mean that you are hurt or angry or desperate. It means you love a person enough to let them go on their own journey, regardless of what you think, and experience what they need to experience, on their time frame so that they someday can walk forward.
It is liberating. Detaching is liberation. It still means love and if you have a warm body, you still have hope.
I am not stating that I don't have angst, but, the angst is wrapped in love.
So, today is the 18th. I am slammed at work. I am going to leave a little early. I am going to cook dinner and celebrate the fact the "button" made me a mom, the best job ever.
I became a mom.
He was blond, blue eyed, spoke like a southern boy and he stole my heart. He was four. He called me mom and all was right in my heart.
I will ALWAYS remember that day and the joy in my heart. The hopes and the dreams.
The judge said yes, you can take him home.
We had nothing for him. His room was painted pink at the time.
I remember being in Wal-mart buying a booster seat telling him that we were so excited that he was coming to live with us.
He asked about his room and we told him it was pink.
He asked, "if you were so excited about me coming, why did you paint my room pink?" Hello, foreshadowing.
He had nothing but an ELMO backpack and an outfit.
We stopped at Olive Garden on the way home to celebrate. They served him cake on a little plate. Ok. We stole the plate. It was his first entry into his baby book.
The next day, I left to find a school/day care. I left the "button" a list of chores and he and Franklin stood in the garage as I backed out. I told Franklin, "if those chores are not done, you Franklin are going into time out."
The "button" cracked up.
And our love began.
He was so attached we couldn't even teach him to ride a bike. He couldn't stand it if we were behind him. I couldn't leave him with a sitter.
Shortly after that, I had to travel over night for work. The "button" was a mess even though I explained it was just over night and I would pick him up from school.
When I showed up the next day to pick him from school, he was in the class, back to me and the teacher said, "Button, she is here."
He turned around and said, "I knew you would be the one to come back."
December 16 was a day I celebrated every year, quietly. I would give the kids their snow globes that day, all of them...just because. It was the day I became a mom. It was the "button's" birthday/conception day all in one.
The last two years, while he was in summer camp, I still gave the kids snow globes. I celebrated in my heart.
The day I became a mom, that day standing mani/pedi dates, personal trainers, airline tickets, birthdays in Paris, ski trips, Ann Taylor and Talbotts all went out the window.
The day I learned what it was to love beyond measure and appreciate finger prints, skinned knees and boys and the obsession with fart (I hate that word) noises. It changed my life.
Last year, I was so looking forward to this year. If I had read the calendar correctly, I thought I would be going to pick him up from his first semester in college. I would have the house looking like Martha Stewart lived there. His favorite part was always the garland up the steps. It would be awesome. And there would be lights on the house. I was even going to cave and allow colored lights on the outside of my house.
Hmmm....expectations will kick your ass clear into your heart.
The truth was, the day came and went. I never noticed. I had given the kids snow globes earlier. I missed the day. I missed my own little celebration of something so significant.
I don't even know where the "the button" is...the kid who crawled into the fetal position when I left him...I have no idea where he is.
I have no idea where my son is. I type the letters and shake my head.
But, it is not what you think.
Yes, I could go get in the car and search for him but why do you want to find someone who doesn't want to be found?
The reality is this, my dear friend, "t" introduced me to a fabulous group of women. I don't know their real names or will never see them but I read their stories and read their pain and their successes and their dashed expectations. The women of the naranon forum.
Those expectations were mine. I hit myself in the heart.
Substance abusers need to do research. They need to do it on their own, detach from those who love them, to show they can do without love, they have drugs until they need love in place of drugs.
Honestly, I don't even know 100% if it is the drugs but I do know and have lived through the pattern. So, if I were to bet and listen to my gut, I would go with booze and dope. I would bet that booze and dope are the two reasons that I do not know where my son is...they have accompanied him in the past when there is this pattern of behavior.
The funny thing about booze and dope...they don't nag, they don't make suggestions, hassle you, or make you be punctual. Booze and dope don't know dates and times, are always there, always comforting, they do not nag and they don't have ANY expectations.
When I realized the date, I shrugged it off. And then I said, "Hey girl, now just you wait a minute, you didn't meltdown, you didn't pick up the phone and call Franklin, or go eat chocolate...you went to the naranon forum and read. And then I celebrated. I am no longer addicted to my son's addiction.
We have detached with love. Detaching does not mean that you are hurt or angry or desperate. It means you love a person enough to let them go on their own journey, regardless of what you think, and experience what they need to experience, on their time frame so that they someday can walk forward.
It is liberating. Detaching is liberation. It still means love and if you have a warm body, you still have hope.
I am not stating that I don't have angst, but, the angst is wrapped in love.
So, today is the 18th. I am slammed at work. I am going to leave a little early. I am going to cook dinner and celebrate the fact the "button" made me a mom, the best job ever.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Tupper Ware, Two Buck Chuck, The Grinch, Two Peppe...
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Tupper Ware, Two Buck Chuck, The Grinch, Two Peppe...: Nobody I know is in the Christmas Spirit. Nobody. Franklin has either been blessed or cursed with four sisters. One of his sisters is &q...
Tupper Ware, Two Buck Chuck, The Grinch, Two Peppermints and Teeth cleaner.
Nobody I know is in the Christmas Spirit. Nobody.
Franklin has either been blessed or cursed with four sisters. One of his sisters is "J" and she is referred to as "Aunt Bee."
We have given her this title with the utmost respect.
"J" is the kind of person that you want your son to marry, your daughter to become or the sister you want to have. "J" spends her summer canning, making homemade jelly and spending time with the grand kids. She is known to pull the car over for a great yard sale. She is the most appreciative person I have ever known. She spends time on ancestry.com, has dug up (not literally) relatives of all kinds and is eager to share her findings.
She doesn't forget birthdays and is known to give siblings, nephews, nieces and grand kids photo books of pictures of all ancestors.
She is an "old school" old fashioned woman with a fabulous circle of friends.
She has lived in her house for "years". She has raised her family of three boys there. A fabulous mother. The "go to" girl.
When Franklin's other sister, "P" moved in after she became a member of the "club", "P" encouraged her to get rid of her dining room table. It had seen a good thirty years.
"J" would not part with that table. Every nick, scape, dent and carving came from one of her boys will they were growing up.
"J" takes care of everything she owns. "P" told me the other day "the b----- won't even part with a piece of Tupperware that she has had for 20 years." She cherishes her stuff. To some, it is "stuff", to her it is priceless.
I love "P".
I love "J".
Last week, "J's" house and all of her Tupperware burnt to the ground. To the ground.
Even the dining room table.
Later that day, I spoke to "P" who was devastated for her sister. And just sad.
And after speaking to her sister, "J" was devastated for her sister. Both lost belongings of the their children.
And "P" felt badly that she ever said anything about the table. Or the Tupperware.
I have thought about my sister-in-laws for the last week. A tragedy made them roommates. Another will give them companionship.
My neighbor who also had her house burn down, also right before Christmas, had a meltdown in my living room one day after her fire. Her friend, who had breast cancer had given her some antique buttons. They were lost in the fire.
She was telling me how upset she was about the buttons when her husband said, "for goodness sakes, they are buttons!"
To which she responded, "but they were MY buttons. I am 50 some years old and I think that I am entitled and have earned some damn buttons."
I sooo get that. And Tupperware.
My sister-in-law "P" just buried her son in June. This will be "the" first Christmas. "J" was holding "P" up. And now this. It was going to be a tough day even with a roof over their head. They will both hold one another up. That is a foundation that cannot be destroyed.
Yesterday, I had a conversation with my friend, "S". I am pretty sure that we were separated at birth. She is the fancy, "girly" one and I am the tomboy.
She lost her mother very suddenly a few weeks ago. And to her mom's credit, her mom Christmas shopped early. The shopping early was good but she passed on before she could wrap the gifts. I don't even need to write more. I cannot even imagine what that was like, to find the gifts and then to wrap them and then pass them out on Christmas Day.
She told me that later that day,after wrapping the gifts, her husband said that his parents had called and wanted to know what they were having for Christmas dinner.
"I looked at him and said, I am having a case of two buck chuck from Trader Joe's. You can have whatever."
And then my sister who was separated from me at birth said, "when he asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I just said December 26."
Today, Franklin was there, dressed in green. I think he wanted to strap fake antlers to our dog Willie and drive to Who ville. He was sad, sad for his sisters, life, stuff, just so not in the spirit.
Okay, I pulled out my red and green pom poms, put on a Santa outfit and went off, " we have our health, our house, great kids, even though we don't even know where one is, and we have Tupperware. Your sisters are alone, no Tupperware, house burnt to the ground, come one." Right in front of the Dollar Tree. I just had a Christmas cheering session. "Come on husband, I need you help, don't fail me now."
I went in to the Dollar Tree for gift bags and tissue paper and got behind a couple of the most elderly people ever. She was a tiny, frail woman, bundled up in a Christmas sweater, black nylon pants, tiny little black flats with bells on them, perfectly hair sprayed 1950's hair and she shuffled...really shuffled. Her husband was tall, lean and so pale. He had glasses with a baseball cap, a vest and his pants were undone at the top with a long sleeved, button down shirt that was thread bare. He shuffled more than she did. He was like a tall, elderly Forest Gump. They shuffled like Ruth Buzzy and some guy I don't remember his name from Laugh In. He had the longest fingers ever. She followed a young girl around the store. The young girl referred to them as "great gran and great dad."
The ladies stood in the card isle where I know "great gran" was picking out cars to write for all the grand and great grand kids with the five dollar bills. "Great gran" read and picked for several minutes and made sure the great grand daughter counted out the cards.
I was envious watching them. I so wish I could spend just one more day "ripping" (that is what we called shopping) with my Great grandma, Emma and my mamaw. I wasn't stalking them, I was watching them with fondness. I really hope that young girl could appreciate this moment. When it is gone, you will want it back. It was lunchtime and I knew she would be taking her great grandparents out for lunch. I was guessing Cracker Barrel.
They wondered over to the candy canes. I can so picture "great gran" taping a candy cane to each card. She said, "too many choices, where are the red and white ones that are peppermint?" I had to laugh. Great gran said "I used to love eating candy canes but now they stick to my dentures. I can only eat the soft ones, the short kinds. Love them though."
I knew immediately which ones she was talking about, my personal favorites.
So they picked out the perfect amount of candy canes to go with the cards.
In the mean time, "great dad" was towering over the teeth cleaner. He shuffled. Really shuffled. I was shocked how he shuffled. I was also stunned at how tall he was. Even with "old age shrinkage", this guy was tall.
Finally, he approaches the cash register. I go in behind me. "Great gran" is standing near the window gazing outside after paying for her purchases.
He put on the conveyor belt, two boxes of teeth cleaner and two little bags of the soft peppermints.
He pays. It took him 12 minutes to open up his perfect wallet, get the money out, hand it over, collect the change and put it back in the wallet and shuffle on over to the window.
As he gets to her, my transaction is completed and I am whizzing by as he hands her the two bags of peppermints and says "Merry Christmas."
She grinned from ear to ear. "Same thing he gets me every year."
He shuffles by and says "seventy two years or 144 bags of peppermints and still going strong."
I smiled at all of them. I wanted to be that great grand daughter for one afternoon.
I wondered how many tragedies they endured, how many times she stood somewhere encouraging her husband to get in the spirit and how many loved ones they buried. I wondered if their house ever burned down or what their story really was. I sat in my car and watched them shuffle to the car, get in, buckle up and depart.
A 15 minute process.
It really wasn't about the gifts or the "stuff" or the Tupperware, it was about giving love and being loved in return. And being there, doing what you need to do for the ones you love.
Christmas.
Franklin has either been blessed or cursed with four sisters. One of his sisters is "J" and she is referred to as "Aunt Bee."
We have given her this title with the utmost respect.
"J" is the kind of person that you want your son to marry, your daughter to become or the sister you want to have. "J" spends her summer canning, making homemade jelly and spending time with the grand kids. She is known to pull the car over for a great yard sale. She is the most appreciative person I have ever known. She spends time on ancestry.com, has dug up (not literally) relatives of all kinds and is eager to share her findings.
She doesn't forget birthdays and is known to give siblings, nephews, nieces and grand kids photo books of pictures of all ancestors.
She is an "old school" old fashioned woman with a fabulous circle of friends.
She has lived in her house for "years". She has raised her family of three boys there. A fabulous mother. The "go to" girl.
When Franklin's other sister, "P" moved in after she became a member of the "club", "P" encouraged her to get rid of her dining room table. It had seen a good thirty years.
"J" would not part with that table. Every nick, scape, dent and carving came from one of her boys will they were growing up.
"J" takes care of everything she owns. "P" told me the other day "the b----- won't even part with a piece of Tupperware that she has had for 20 years." She cherishes her stuff. To some, it is "stuff", to her it is priceless.
I love "P".
I love "J".
Last week, "J's" house and all of her Tupperware burnt to the ground. To the ground.
Even the dining room table.
Later that day, I spoke to "P" who was devastated for her sister. And just sad.
And after speaking to her sister, "J" was devastated for her sister. Both lost belongings of the their children.
And "P" felt badly that she ever said anything about the table. Or the Tupperware.
I have thought about my sister-in-laws for the last week. A tragedy made them roommates. Another will give them companionship.
My neighbor who also had her house burn down, also right before Christmas, had a meltdown in my living room one day after her fire. Her friend, who had breast cancer had given her some antique buttons. They were lost in the fire.
She was telling me how upset she was about the buttons when her husband said, "for goodness sakes, they are buttons!"
To which she responded, "but they were MY buttons. I am 50 some years old and I think that I am entitled and have earned some damn buttons."
I sooo get that. And Tupperware.
My sister-in-law "P" just buried her son in June. This will be "the" first Christmas. "J" was holding "P" up. And now this. It was going to be a tough day even with a roof over their head. They will both hold one another up. That is a foundation that cannot be destroyed.
Yesterday, I had a conversation with my friend, "S". I am pretty sure that we were separated at birth. She is the fancy, "girly" one and I am the tomboy.
She lost her mother very suddenly a few weeks ago. And to her mom's credit, her mom Christmas shopped early. The shopping early was good but she passed on before she could wrap the gifts. I don't even need to write more. I cannot even imagine what that was like, to find the gifts and then to wrap them and then pass them out on Christmas Day.
She told me that later that day,after wrapping the gifts, her husband said that his parents had called and wanted to know what they were having for Christmas dinner.
"I looked at him and said, I am having a case of two buck chuck from Trader Joe's. You can have whatever."
And then my sister who was separated from me at birth said, "when he asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I just said December 26."
Today, Franklin was there, dressed in green. I think he wanted to strap fake antlers to our dog Willie and drive to Who ville. He was sad, sad for his sisters, life, stuff, just so not in the spirit.
Okay, I pulled out my red and green pom poms, put on a Santa outfit and went off, " we have our health, our house, great kids, even though we don't even know where one is, and we have Tupperware. Your sisters are alone, no Tupperware, house burnt to the ground, come one." Right in front of the Dollar Tree. I just had a Christmas cheering session. "Come on husband, I need you help, don't fail me now."
I went in to the Dollar Tree for gift bags and tissue paper and got behind a couple of the most elderly people ever. She was a tiny, frail woman, bundled up in a Christmas sweater, black nylon pants, tiny little black flats with bells on them, perfectly hair sprayed 1950's hair and she shuffled...really shuffled. Her husband was tall, lean and so pale. He had glasses with a baseball cap, a vest and his pants were undone at the top with a long sleeved, button down shirt that was thread bare. He shuffled more than she did. He was like a tall, elderly Forest Gump. They shuffled like Ruth Buzzy and some guy I don't remember his name from Laugh In. He had the longest fingers ever. She followed a young girl around the store. The young girl referred to them as "great gran and great dad."
The ladies stood in the card isle where I know "great gran" was picking out cars to write for all the grand and great grand kids with the five dollar bills. "Great gran" read and picked for several minutes and made sure the great grand daughter counted out the cards.
I was envious watching them. I so wish I could spend just one more day "ripping" (that is what we called shopping) with my Great grandma, Emma and my mamaw. I wasn't stalking them, I was watching them with fondness. I really hope that young girl could appreciate this moment. When it is gone, you will want it back. It was lunchtime and I knew she would be taking her great grandparents out for lunch. I was guessing Cracker Barrel.
They wondered over to the candy canes. I can so picture "great gran" taping a candy cane to each card. She said, "too many choices, where are the red and white ones that are peppermint?" I had to laugh. Great gran said "I used to love eating candy canes but now they stick to my dentures. I can only eat the soft ones, the short kinds. Love them though."
I knew immediately which ones she was talking about, my personal favorites.
So they picked out the perfect amount of candy canes to go with the cards.
In the mean time, "great dad" was towering over the teeth cleaner. He shuffled. Really shuffled. I was shocked how he shuffled. I was also stunned at how tall he was. Even with "old age shrinkage", this guy was tall.
Finally, he approaches the cash register. I go in behind me. "Great gran" is standing near the window gazing outside after paying for her purchases.
He put on the conveyor belt, two boxes of teeth cleaner and two little bags of the soft peppermints.
He pays. It took him 12 minutes to open up his perfect wallet, get the money out, hand it over, collect the change and put it back in the wallet and shuffle on over to the window.
As he gets to her, my transaction is completed and I am whizzing by as he hands her the two bags of peppermints and says "Merry Christmas."
She grinned from ear to ear. "Same thing he gets me every year."
He shuffles by and says "seventy two years or 144 bags of peppermints and still going strong."
I smiled at all of them. I wanted to be that great grand daughter for one afternoon.
I wondered how many tragedies they endured, how many times she stood somewhere encouraging her husband to get in the spirit and how many loved ones they buried. I wondered if their house ever burned down or what their story really was. I sat in my car and watched them shuffle to the car, get in, buckle up and depart.
A 15 minute process.
It really wasn't about the gifts or the "stuff" or the Tupperware, it was about giving love and being loved in return. And being there, doing what you need to do for the ones you love.
Christmas.
Monday, December 9, 2013
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Karen Carpenter
it wasn't supposed to be this way but...: Karen Carpenter: My first huge obsession in life is Julie Andrews, The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins. My second is Karen Carpenter. I loved Julie Andr...
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