A Short Story

 So often during my day, my mind will drift back to my busy, busy days of my young mamahood.  Usually, these reveries will be triggered by a text sent by one of my girls sharing bits of their busy mama days...

My mind will pick up scenarios, little pockets of memories, that will bring a smile, maybe a tear or two as I think about those times long ago....

Today, I was thinking of Baby Girl who is vastly expanding with GrandGirl # 5, her second.  BG's BG is nary two so I know that she is kept hopping.  I so remember those exhausted days when I was pregnant and chasing a toddler. 

This particular memory was one of those days.

Eldest Son was quite the pip.  (Still is.)  He had a way of winding me around his finger with his impish grin and sweet disposition.  Quiet and intense, he was a low key little boy that didn't require much. 

 Except one day. 

 I was in the last month with Youngest Son and very slow going.  ES had to go to the bathroom.  For some reason, on that day, he insisted on me going with him when for months, he had taken care of business by himself.  Our bathroom was up thirteen stairs.  Might as well have been on the moon for the mountain that it seemed like on that particular day.

ES continued to plead with me to go with him.  In exasperation, I sat on the steps while telling him, firmly, that he was a big boy and he could go upstairs by himself.  Hurry and get up there!  Don't wait till you have an accident!  Oh, the frustration that I felt with the overwhelming pregnancy exhaustion taking over my normally good nature.  Ahem.

I sat on the landing, having made it that far and in the bathroom upstairs, I could hear him whimpering while he took care of his 'paperwork'.  My mama heart collapsed in guilt and sadness as I trod up the rest of the stairs to comfort the forlorn little fella.

As we finished washing hands and wiping noses, we sat on the top step of the staircase, arms around each other, asking forgiveness for our demanding, short sighted ways.

As we wrapped up our love fest, I asked my little guy, 'Devon, why did you need me to come upstairs with you?  You've been doing this for so long now by yourself.'  His sniffly voice looked up at me with those sweet damp blue eyes and said, 'Because I need you mom.'

That was many, many years ago and I can still remember the pang in my heart to this day.

Well, that little guy has not needed his 'mommy' for many, many years now.
For over a decade, he has been on his own and sharing life with Lovely Wife for several years now.
But today, after receiving the photo from LW with this picture of ES and his little sweetie pie after playing in the rain, I again, hearkened back to my little boy who loved to play in the rain, with or without his mommy's help. (Note the boots.  And sister's broken umbrella.)Today,  Sweet Adeline was even wearing the favorite teeny Mickey Mouse sweatshirt that her daddy wore night and day for a long time....

Ah...the memories just about did me in.

What  a joy to be able to reap the harvest of bountiful memories with your children that you invested in years ago!  What peace there is when the days were lived well and full!

Look at your children squarely in their pretty little eyes tonight and let them read it in yours, that your are thankful that you are their mama....

*love, you sweeties!*

Travels in the Basement

 I am suffering from a weird kind of jet lag.
Haven't had to buy a ticket or renew my passport or update my inoculations.
I have merely taken twelve steps downward into the remains of my basement in my ninety one year old home, unwrapping layers of memories in boxes and boxes of cards and letters and remembrances.
A travel of time within the written word, taking me to places I haven't visited in twenty, thirty, forty years.

 This journey started with the idea that our formerly very useful basement, needed some updating and remodeling after the flooding of the same, now nigh onto four winters ago.  Time, energy and budgetary consideration kept us from working on it before now, but now with our family of four children insisting on multiplying, we know that we need more room to park them when their cherished visits occur. (And you will get to see the progress as we transmogrify our space!)  But before the glory of the change, comes the preparation for the beginning.

 Which for me means sorting through the boxes of communication, 20th century style.  I have spent hours pouring over all my wedding cards and reading good wishes from high school friends, relatives long gone and friends of co workers and neighbors who heard about our marriage, new child, new home etc.....


I have kept every missive sent to my address for the entirety of my thirty eight year marriage.


I realized a few blessed years ago, that I would be running out of places to store my small boxes of cards etc and began the horrid task of (shudder) disposing of cards a few weeks after I receive them.  What a growth ring that was for me....The pitching of something that someone selected for me, signed or left a note in, addressed, bought a stamp, mailed it with the intention of bringing me joy, is something that I just cannot do easily.  Obviously.

I am reaching that realistic age that if I do not grow up and take care of my obsession about this curious collection, I will be cursing my poor children into figuring out what to do with the obviously cherished collection of communication.  Last night, in the midst of my second hour of reading and sorting, I began to develop some courage and got a bit more free with my discards.  Then I came across all the letters my sister wrote to me in 1967, when my brother in law was stationed in Highland Falls New York, before he was off to Vietnam.  Snippets of her day to day newly wed life on an Army Base at a very volatile time in history, while useless to most, will be most interesting to my children some day.  Then I started retreating to keeping for awhile.  Got brave again and found an unmailed letter to an old friend that happened to mentioned that I had gotten off school on October 8, 1964 to see President Johnson's motorcade while he was in Springfield Illinois.  Again, my resolve weakened......

Wedding cards from the 70's were extraordinarily ugly, yet I kept them.  I loved reading them, wishing Hubby and I a long marriage and much happiness.  I feel a desire to write the people that wished this special benediction upon us, assuring them that their blessings years ago have come true. 

I open each congratulations for our first born, wishing upon her, a good and true life, and I nod to myself, knowing these thirty two years with Eldest/Admin, have indeed been good and true.

I get that little catch in my throat with all the labored over Mother's Day cards from my teeny children .

I grin when I see greetings from friends of my children to Hubby and I and know that these little girls are all wonderful grown ups that would get a hoot from seeing what I have kept from their childish scrawls, so precious to me.

So, what to do with it all?  Youngest Son, caretaker of my journals and holder of the family history, followed me downstairs and his advice was of no help.  He says, 'mom, how much space can cards take?  Keep them!  Go through your discards again and make sure your not throwing anything important away!'  Have I mentioned that YS is spitting image of his mother's personality, humor and quirkiness?  Yeah.  No help at all.  Where is Eldest/Admin and her purging ways when I need her??

I tried to come up with a vintage need for these historical documents, but nothin'.....

What, Dear Readers, would you do with this avalanche of memories and  grand examples of Hallmark etc in all it's 70's, 80's glory??

After hour upon hour on my reminiscing trip, I am overwhelmed and feeling a bit discombobulated......

Let me know your thoughts about my dilemma.  The contractor comes tomorrow and I believe he will want to start soon...

Leave a comment,

JUST DON'T SEND ME A CARD!!!!!!

Clunker Cash

My husband is a skeptical cynic. I know that's redundant, but that's how bad he is. Not one to trust 'a deal'. 'No free lunch', he'll say if I tell him about one. He is annoyed with marketers that push Valentine's Day and Mother's Day on him. Skeptic Supreme.

Imagine my surprise when he calls me in Vivieland, to tell me that he is going to take advantage of the government's Cash for Clunkers program. I had to believe that he turned under every rock and probably read the 135 page rule book that accompanied the process. Who was I to impede the progress? If it passed HIS test, then what a deal it must be.

In my absence, he picked out our first brand new car. I believe I was still in shock, never thinking in a million years that he would go out on a financial limb to purchase a new car.

Now the Clunker.

Our (notso) faithful work horse, a 1991 Ford Ranger has served us well these past 10 years. It has moved our two youngest to college,and our Eldest Daughter to the Big City of Indianapolis. When our son used it, who knows where it took him. (There are stories of summer rides in the country with all his friends in the back, scaring the Amish and being scared by them as well....Better to not know everything......) Auctions, estate and garage sales, we hit them all with our ol' white truck. Recently, a deer hit my son on one of his country rides and even then, my husband was able to bandage it enough to carry on a bit longer....

It was with mixed feelings that we turned it over. We kept our eyes on the thermostat. It tends to overheat. We turned around a lot. It has no rear view mirrors. The outer one that survived, was taken out by the deer. When we reached the last stoplight before the new car dealership, a considerate citizen next to us at the light, informed us that we had no left brake light. We wanted to tell him that it also had no left turn signals either, but the light changed, we thanked him and then laughed hysterically as we drove off to our sweet little Clunkers last parking date.

We learned all about our new car's bells and whistles. We learned about the air bags, the Sirius radio, the lined trunk. We turned over our Clunker's license plates and signed final papers. We inspected the new car with a grin on our face that said, 'Inspect what? Did you not see what we drove in her with?? ANYthing would be better!!'

And so it was the Skeptic Supreme and his wife joined the ranks of the other 360,000 Cash for Clunkers program, rid ourselves of our gas guzzling work horse for the likes of an American made Korean car. We followed our president's suggestion to get a little greener and really did well in the deal too.

A great way to go out, Faithful Work Horse; you scored us $4,650 toward our warranty packed retirement car and gave us years of memories as well.....

Onward to make new memories.....

Summer Time...

....and the living is easy....

I will be saying good bye to Miss Vivien early Sunday morning.

After two weeks of extraordinary memories, it shall be hard.

But Vivien has her life to live with Mama and Daddy and I have things as well. When we meet up again, it will be sweet, but for now, temporary separations shall be our lot.

I have my memories of this summer packed tidily in my mind to draw on when the absences are just too hard to take.

Off to enjoy my time with her and all her wonderful aunties and uncles.....