She brings him a mug of coffee and says, “How’d you sleep?”
He says, “I slept great. How ’bout you?”
She says, “How can you sleep with that incessant dripping coming from the bathroom sink?”
He says, “That bugs you? I can hear it but I just roll over and go back to sleep.”
__________ Continue reading →
Take:
Mix children and dogs well together. Put them in the field, stirring constantly.
Pour this brook over pebbles; sprinkle with flowers.
Spread over all a deep blue sky and bake in hot sunshine.
When brown, remove and set away to cool in bathtub.
*Discovered in Rare Recipes and Budget Savers, a compilation of columns from The Wichita Eagle’s Home Town News.
Published in 1961.
Contributed by B. M. Pittenger.
“Mom, didn’t you say you were going to take us to a play about Camelot?”
I’d lost the note I’d written. At the beginning of April, I’d discovered a college production of a funny version of King Arthur and Camelot. I’d forgotten to buy tickets and the date was fast approaching. “Will, I’m glad you reminded me. I’ll get online and find out where to get tickets after we get back from the hardware store.”
__________
We’d gone to Home Depot under the guise of exploring options for a homeowner repair. We came home with a pile of seed packets instead.
They each got to select a couple different packets for their corner of the garden. Jenny selected celosia, forget-me-nots and celery. She doesn’t actually like celery but her imaginary friend does. Will selected a packet of habanero seeds and sweet onions. I picked basil, California Poppies, hollyhocks, and nasturtiums. I’m sure there were more in there. Continue reading →
When I brew a cup of tea, Jenny runs over to stand next to my cup. Her turned-up nose hovers over the steam as she inhales deeply. She loves the smell of tea but isn’t fond of the taste. She often asks if she can dunk my tea bag while she watches the hot water take on the soft yellow of Chamomile. She likes knowing the color comes from flower petals.
I think she’s drawn to the ritual of the process. She’s fascinated by the little envelopes that hold the dried leaves. She likes the names of tea: English Breakfast, Orange Pekoe, Honey Bush, Peppermint and Lemon Zinger.
And so she spent the better part of a sunny afternoon, sitting out on the patio with paper, embroidery floss, staples, tape and markers to make her own tea bags. Her tea bags contained imaginary dried petals and herbs.
Will and I marveled at how much they looked like real tea bags. Maybe these were tea bags for baby dolls. They might be used for a party with imaginary friends.
Jenny served us up some “steaming hot tea” in pastel-colored cups with mismatched saucers. Will asked for Peppermint. I chose Earl Grey. Continue reading →
So you say… that you wish you could find extra hours in the day to maybe carve out a compost pile in the backyard, learn to play the fiddle or compile all those photos into scrapbooks; yet you never miss an episode of your favorite TV show.
So you say… you’d like to do a better job of keeping in touch with friends, but there’s never enough time after work, homework, laundry and dinner, especially with the time you spend on Facebook every night.
So you say… you could cut back on hours at work, if only you could get your budget under control, while spending every Saturday at the mall looking for something to fill the void.
So you say… you’ll be able to slow the family pace a bit, right after the next session of swim lessons. Oh, but there’s another season of soccer coming up and junior has to take soccer with all his buddies.
So you say… you’re going to take this minimalist lifestyle thing seriously, once you buy the shelving to organize all the stuff in storage. Continue reading →
We’d gone in search of lavender fleece. We came home with jewelry making supplies, three unpainted birdhouses in need of jazz, and half a yard of turquoise fleece for, “You know, mom…. more projects.”
The idea was that each of us would paint a birdhouse.
Will and Jen are coming out of that blissful phase of thinking everything they do is fantastic. They are starting to compare their creations to others. But for right now they still relish the act of creating. That means they get out the paints, sit down on the floor and go to it.
Without a plan.
Without first sketching, erasing, sketching again or starting over. Continue reading →
Me: “He’s demonstrated that he is more than willing to put in the time. When other kids his age beg to play Xbox, he searches the internet for tips on golf swings. Clearly, this is one of his top three passions – it may be the thing he is most passionate about. We’ve been told by a couple instructors that he is blessed with some natural talent. We don’t spend money on soccer or baseball or football or guitar or karate. I really think it’s time we get him some lessons and support him in this thing he loves.”
Him: “My parents never did that for me.”
She could remember when seeing his name in her Inbox made her heart race with excitement. Now seeing his name in her Inbox made her palms sweat. She let the cursor hover over his name. She didn’t want to click to open his email.
She’d have to decide what to write back.
Did she even want to write back?
Being nice was her thing. She’d been supportive. She’d been there. She’d listened and responded.
Was there anything positive coming out of this relationship? If this was positive, why did it feel bad?
Were there healthier places to invest this energy?
Was she opening and answering emails because she was afraid there wouldn’t be another to come along.
She closed her laptop and stared out the window at the park.
__________
Her daughter came up and said, “Mom… are you interruptible? Can I ask you something?”
She looked into her daughter’s blue eyes and found the answer she’d been looking for:
She opened her laptop and deleted his email before opening it.
My breathing is loud. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears. I can’t remember if this is the sixth or seventh lap.
Does it even matter how many times I climb this hill, just as long as I get out here and move?
I get to the top and survey the river. Through the pounding I hear my thoughts:
I head down the hill and wonder if this upcoming birthday could quietly sneak away in the night without anyone in my family doing anything about it. Through huffs and puffs, I laugh at myself because I know it’s not so much about the day, as it is about my perceptions of what it’s like to be turning 50. Continue reading →
Three bags, nine days, and no laptop.
We’re headed off for another adventure.
Jenny has packed her favorite Barbie, a new floppy sun hat, a swim suit and sundresses.
Will is taking his skateboard. I’m concerned he might try to sneak Nina in at the last minute.
I’m packing Sophie’s World by Jostein Gaarder. I’ve had it for a long while. Something tells me it’s time to read it.
The kids plan to go horseback riding, golfing, swimming, hiking and skating. They hope to hang with a mom who doesn’t have her nose in a laptop. I’m going to make sure that happens.
I also plan to walk, read, swim, write in a spiral notebook, and pretend to hit a little white ball with a metal stick and try to avoid saying bad words while doing so.
As I write this post, it is snowing, and that means our timing couldn’t be more perfect. I got to shovel walks this morning, and soon we’ll be boarding a plane to head south – another example of the good being better because of the bad. ;)
If you leave a comment on the blog while I’m away, please know that I’ll reply when I return.
I’ll miss you all.
Happy Spring.
;)
She’ll pick up her school papers and take herself off to her room to work. He has never willingly gone to his room. In fact, when she goes to her room, he follows her and only stops when his nose comes within inches of her closed door.
He walks around the house while brushing his teeth. When he’s in the bathroom, he’s singing. It doesn’t occur to her to sing in the bathroom.
He likes to know what the plan is, what we are going to have for lunch and dinner, and whether we will be having company. She wants to be left to wing-it, she has to be reminded to eat, and she’s cool with not having anyone over for days at a time.
When he’s working on a project, he’ll stop in the middle to brainstorm a new project. She doesn’t think about what’s next, because she’s so deeply immersed in what she’s doing now.
He’s the first to make us laugh with a joke or a funny voice. She’s the first to come up with a new painting technique. Continue reading →
Jenny fixes a too gaudy Barbie dress by altering it. She cuts off the flouncy sleeves and shortens the train. She might use tape or thread or buttons, but she knows she can fix it. She’ll even fix Barbie’s hair with snips here and there.
When the wheels don’t spin fast enough on his skateboard, Will can fix that problem by cleaning the bearings.
I can fix a too-thin sauce in a batch of Chicken and Broccoli Fettuccine by letting the sauce soak into the pasta a bit before serving.
I fix the toilet when it makes that whistling sound. Will fixes the squeaky hinge on the art supply cupboard. Jen fixes a meal of flowers and herbs for her imaginary pony.
Fixing is what we do. Fixing is in our blood. Continue reading →
Through tears he said, “I don’t wanna go. I’m tired. Do we have to? Do we have to do a dad visit?”
I said, “I’m sorry, Honey. I know. You are tired, but that’s not a good enough excuse to skip out on a visit. You can be tired at dad’s house, too.”
He said, “I know that, but it’s not the same. It’s not comfortable there.”
__________
Later, when sorting through Tech Decks and old Golf Magazines, picking up air soft ammo and discussing the logic behind owning seven backpacks, we found the wallet he lost last Thanksgiving.
“Mom! Can you believe it? There are gift cards in there, too. I thought I’d never see that wallet again!”
I said, “You lead a charmed life, Cowboy. Do you see that?”
He said, “I know, mom. I do lead a charmed life. Even if I have to go to dad’s today, I still have it pretty good.”
He walked out of the room to show Jen the found wallet.
A bit later he came back in and said, “I get it, mom. The good is that much better because of the bad.”
A semi hauling gasoline was in front, another semi was behind, and we were crawling along a snow-packed two-lane road under heavy cloud cover and falling snow.
My hands were at 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock on the steering wheel. The tunes weren’t blaring like they are when the roads are dry.
“Will, honey, I can’t talk right now. I need to concentrate on these roads.”
The snow kept falling.
The skies stayed gray. Continue reading →
