A Mom Story...

My oldest son isn't with me today.  He spent last night at my parents, a delayed birthday tradition. There was a snowstorm during the first attempt.  This date was the make-up date and Eddie was not about to let anything stop him this time; not even a broken arm.  We talked about rescheduling, but he was resolute.

Only 24 hours after breaking his arm, he departed for Grandma and Grandpa's (a.k.a. Baba).  Eddie is a very sensitive kid; as in he is very aware of his needs and emotions.  So, he knew he needed to be cared for and loved right now, while the pain was still at it's worst.  Plus he is grieving the loss of his passion for the next 2 months, Taekwondo. 

I have to say, I am really struggling with the fact that it is not me providing that for him.  I feel bound, I feel restricted.  This is uncomfortable.  I should be caring for my baby.  I know he is in amazing hands.  My parents are truly wonderful.  Still, I have this deep, uncontrollable need to care for my hurting child.

It's strange, the timing.  This isn't the first time he ended up at Grandma and Baba's at a pinnacle point in his life.  Four years ago, he witnessed another Grandfather (his namesake) pass away.  It was the night before Eddie's birthday, the night before he was going to spend the night at Grandma and Baba's.  That time we also discussed cancelling, and it was hard to let him go, but that was where he was meant to be.

There are some very clear moments in my children's lives where I feel God is at work.  It seems obvious that some events were planned and happened just as they should.  For Eddie, these moments when he ends up at Grandma and Baba's seem fall into that category for sure.  I'm sure he will never forget the nights he spent there when he needed love, support and reassurance the most.

I think I'll feel unsettled until he returns to my care, but he is where he is supposed to be and I am thankful.

Christmas Tree Time

In about a week, my kids and I will venture out to find our 2nd "real" Christmas tree. I can't stop thinking about our experience last year with our first "real" tree.  And so I am inclined to repost last year's musing.  Enjoy!  And... Merry Christmas!

Ornaments of Life - Dody's Daydreams, December 18th, 2009

We've had a fake Christmas tree for 10 years. It was easier when we had three preschoolers. No chasing kids through massive tree lots while my hubby and I bicker over the "right" tree. No falling needles to be eaten and choked on. No forgetting to water the tree because I have laundry and spit-up and diaper rash on the brain.

After the boys got bigger, it was a habit we were in. We have the tree, so why go pay $40 for another one, real or not?

Then came the kittens. The kittens loved to climb and bat at things and play! The Christmas tree became their own private amusement park. We tried to deter them by squirting water at them. That was only a temporary fix. When we slept, they played. Every morning I found misplaced and broken ornaments. Eventually, several branches would accompany the glass shards on the floor. By New Years Day, they had left their permanent mark. The fake tree we had used for 10 years was unrepairable.

This Thanksgiving, my hubby picked up a new fake tree, by my request. However, it just didn't sit right with us. It was time to create a new Christmas tradition. I returned the plastic tree, tightly stuffed into it's box and two weeks later we ventured out into the snowy night to buy a real tree.

The experience was great. No arguing, a warm campfire, a tractor-pulled hayride through the beautiful tree farm. It was perfect.

The next day we erected our gorgeous tree. (I'm certain it was the best one on the lot and only fools came before us, why else was is still there waiting for us?) With three little helpers, it seemed almost magical how quickly the tree transformed. Lights and garland and ornaments were flying onto the tree.

An ornament my son made as a toddler, another that his brother made in pre-school, another that was a gift from my stepmom; "Oh, I love this one." "Grandma bought these for us, one snowman for each of us." "Oh look, a handcrafted angel from Stella!" "Nana helped you make that one." "You made this one with your Aunt Jamie." "Mom, remember these from our old neighbors." "Ahaha... this one is from my sister. I miss her." "Baby's First Christmas, one for each of you."

The memories of our loved ones and past Christmases flooded every open space on the tree. Many of the people from these memories aren't here anymore, but these decorations, these ornaments, these precious trinkets, they represent life. My life, my children's' lives, my relatives lives. This tree may be a living tree, but it wasn't truly brought to life until it was donned with our treasures.

The kids are already planning which ornaments they will take with them when they grow up and move out. The memories will live on with them for years to come.

Maybe I am just more sentimental this year, maybe it's because our tree is living, maybe I am intoxicated by the smell of pine; but I know that I am smitten with this tree that is very much alive.

Dinner or Leaf Pile?

(As previously required for me to express, sorry for major blogging drought. Party Foul!)

So, during the last two days, I was faced with the same decision, twice!  Dinner or leaf pile?  Both times, I chose leaf pile. 

We have a huge maple tree in our backyard that drops leaves a bit late in the season.  The kids wait and wait as they see nearly all the other leaves in our and surrounding counties succumb to the season and drop to the earth.  They wait, and they watch our maple.  In late October, it finally decides to let the leaves lighten to shades of yellow-ish green.  To be honest, our first fall in this house, I felt whamboozled that my glorious maple only kinda-sorta embraces the leaf changing phenomenon by barely, whimpily and subtlely altering leaf pigmentation, then clinging to it's leaves until the freezing weather comes forcing me to clean up it's massive shedding while I get chilled to the bone.  Talk about a party foul!

Anyway, I digress.  The leaves have finally, mostly fallen.  And, I guess I've unnecessarily complained about it being November when the leaves fall because it's actually been very mild here this year.  So, two days in a row I was faced with the choice of making dinner for my family, or playing with them in the massive leaf pile.  Both times I chose the later.  Was there really much of a choice?  I only really cook a dinner two or three a week if the family is lucky, once if they are not.  So frozen pizza and Burger King it was. 

But you see, who cares?  We got to do this...

 

and this... 

 

I think I made the right decision.

I rest my case.

T is for Tea

(That is phonetic fun! Say it out loud: "T is for Tea!" Haha.)

I used to be a tea fanatic. Other than water, tea was my drink of choice. Add a smidgen of honey and I was a happy girl.

Somewhere along the way, sometime after baby number three took over every last minute of my day it was replaced with coffee. Coffee has a way of giving you a swift kick in the rear, while tea calmly boosts or sooths the soul. I didn't have time for tea anymore, I think. (To be honest, I don't even remember the switch, those days are a bit blurry in the recall files.)It's been coffee for many years now, with the occasional tea when I needed a change or a leisurely, cozy drink.

I've been having mild stomach issues lately. Maybe indigestion, nerves or a self-diagnosed stomach ulcer; perhaps h.pylori associated. And, just about everything I read on the ever reliable Internet suggests that caffeine can irritate things. DRAT! Or so I thought.

I was a bit headachey these last two days without my caffeine, but my stomachs been better. And now I find myself longing for my once forgotten cup of tea, with a splash of honey.

Instead of taking coffee to work tomorrow, I will take tea. Green Chai. That's been a favorite for a long time.

Perhaps it is time to introduce my baby girl to tea with Mommy. My boys have all had tea parties and special "tea moments" with me. Sometimes we have all gathered around the table and talked over tea. Other times I've had special one-on-one "tea talks" with my boys.

Tea has been an important part of our family life, which all originated with my Mom sharing her love of tea with me. It's time to regard tea once again.

R is for Road Trip

I love road trips. Especially when it's me and my honey.

We've driven from Oregon to Wisconsin, from Wisconsin to Oregon; Milwaukee to St. Paul, St. Paul to Milwaukee; Milwaukee to Atlanta, Louisville, Springfield, and Denver; Las Vegas to L.A. and Las Vegas to Bend, OR and back.

I got to drive from Vermont back to Wisconsin, alone. With the kids, we drove round-trip to North Carolina, and with my sister, brother-in-law, mom and step-dad, my hubby and I drove to see my sister in Prince Albert Saskatchewan and back (That was some adventure!).

Road trips are awesome! My husband is the main driver and I am the navigator and educator. I love watching the map and pointing in various directions, informing others about what is near. I consult my travel books to add trivia facts about all the surrounding features that are nearby, yet unseen. And of what is seen, I investigate until I am certain of what it is, then share said trivia facts.

Of course we stop plenty of places to explore, but it's just as fun to return to the car and hit the open road. It's one of the beauties of living in America. This vast, beautiful land is at our fingertips, so long as we have a car and some gas money.

P is for Posey

P is for Posey

A posey is a small, hand-held bouquet popular in mid- 19th-century Victorian England as an accessory carried by fashionable ladies. Composed of mixed flowers and herbs and edged with a paper frill or greens, the arrangement was sometimes inserted into a silver filigree holder. When supplied by an admirer, a nosegay became a vehicle for the floral "language of love"-e.g., a red tulip was a declaration of love; a sprig of dogwood returned by the young lady was a sign of indifference; a variegated pink meant that she rejected her suitor's affection. This variety of bouquet has enjoyed periodic revivals.

Source: Dictionary.com

Wow! I thought a posey was a type of flower. Instead it is the amazing social tradition. Reading about it just makes me want to put on a floor-length dress, put my hair up, and head off to the neighborhood ball. (I like to imagine that all 19th century neighborhoods included a mansion of generous and gorgeous young brother and their parents all searching their own party for the love of their lives.)

It seems like no one would ever use a posey again to signal their level of interest in an admirer. Wouldn't it be easier to send a text? But where is the romance in that?

I beckon you all to host a neighborhood ball, having all men send a posey to the woman/girl they admire. Then the women get to insert their "signal" flower. How fantastic, whimsical and wonderful is that?

Wishing you a happy gala!

May Baskets - The Joy of Giving

I was reminded recently of the tradition of leaving May Baskets on someone's doorstep on May 1st. Beautiful spring flowers, maybe with a sweet treat, left anonymously. No glory, no thanks, just the joy of giving.

It's a shame that so many traditions like this have fallen to the wayside. I'm not going to preach about how busy we are on the internet, emailing, on the phone, texting, working, running to and fro. But, I wish our society wasn't on the track of getting more and more self-absorbed and used to the short-cuts of life that technology provides.

I applaud my sisters for continuing to send hand written notes and cards through the mail. Those touch my heart in ways that texts and emails never seem to be able to do. And I know a basket left on my door would warm my soul in the same way.

I think May Baskets are in my family's future. I'd like to create and deliver some with my children. (Try this link for May Basket ideas for kids.) Perhaps a few of us can keep the beautiful, selfless, giving traditions alive.