lost in space

How does a SAVED blog post disappear? I wrote one last night, planning to finish it up this morning. Only to find it - gone!

No time to re-write it, so I'll post this photo by my daughter-in-love Jenny. Great photography skills, Jenny! My sweetie Ari and her dad, Dan, are having fun in the sprinkler. I can't wait to see and play with her ... soon!

photo by Jenny Haller copyright 2011

power of the pen

The dog is jumping on the bandwagon of clearing clutter around here. Ellie has taken to nibbling, tearing, and shredding old papers, clippings and photographs. The older, the better.

And why do we have paper piles within a dog's reach? Because we are ... hopelessly cluttered.

So her newest pile, in the basement (one of us forgot to shut the door) was entirely Bill's. Hoo boy, it was a bonanza: years of birthday and Father's Day cards, kids' artwork and notes, and newspaper clippings from - no kidding - the 1960s!

Sorting through the pile, I discovered lots of cute notes from the kids. Many were my own, most of which I don't recall writing. My favorite, written to Bill and dated April 26, 1986, welcomed him home from a business trip. Our boys were ages 1 and 2 1/2. I wrote:

Welcome home, dear!
While you were gone, I:
- found out what it's like to be dragged downstairs by 6:30 a.m.
- washed sand out of hair four times.
- cut David's hair.
- played in the sandbox four times.
- stayed up til past midnight.
- made 2 trips to the park.
- ate McDonalds with the boys.
- made a yummy chicken salad for dinner on the porch.
- washed off several scrapes: knees and arms.
- took many walks.
- scorched a double batch of granola.
- made a big potato salad for the church supper.
- had a discussion on death with David.
- pulled dandelions.
- saw the first lilacs.
- made reservations at a B & B in Marblehead - two nights!
- and missed you!
b.


This note reveals the fullness of my days and hands, the intensity of mothering toddlers, and the treasured relief of extra sleep. I remember being that woman of 25 years ago, but it's a distant memory.

Much as I like to de-clutter around here, letters - nearly all letters - are preserved. Each is a piece of a person and a snapshot of a moment in the writer's life. A letter reveals personality, humor and mood. A letter is heart. And certainly, a letter is love poured out.

my Barbie ban

Barbie dolls were very big when I was a girl. Barbie made her debut in 1959, when I was a toddler. But I always hated them. Several theories come to mind:

1. Being named Barbara, I never allowed anyone to call me Barbie. It sounded too girly. yech.
2. Barbie wasn't a doll, she was a mini-woman. A woman's figure. Woman's clothing. Woman's hairdo. And a boyfriend. yech.
3. She was so not cuddly. Dolls should be cuddly.

I was aware that my aversion to Barbie ostracized me during playdates. I'd watch my friends dress their Barbies, brush their hair and go out on dates with Ken. But all of it repulsed me! And when a Barbie would turn up naked, as they always do, I found it embarrassing for all concerned.

Truthfully, I wasn't hugely into dolls. I did have a Betsy McCall doll (anyone?) but my interests leaned to biking, building forts, bugging my brothers, cooking Creepy Crawlers (anyone?), reading books, and - ok I admit it - TV, which was superbly educational in the 1960's.

When I had my daughter Katie, I decided to influence her choice let her make up her own mind on Barbie. I never bought her a Barbie and hoped she wouldn't ask for one. Thankfully, American Girl dolls came to the rescue just in time. Beginning with Bitty Baby and moving on to Samantha, these were dolls I could embrace. Sweet dolls who looked like girls, didn't have boyfriends or breasts, and even taught a bit of American history!

If you played with Barbies, that's ok. You can still be my friend. Just don't expect me to buy Barbies for my granddaughters!

ever been to Cleveland?

So the old joke goes: first prize is a week in Cleveland and second prize is two weeks in Cleveland. OK, so it's not Seattle or San Diego. But look for beauty and you will find it. And that I did for two days this week as we caught up with our son David.

Coming up on its 100th anniversary, the West Side Market has been a market from the start, never anything else, according to one of the vendors. You'll find meats, cheeses, fresh produce, coffee, pastries and lots more. Fabulous sights and smells.

This crepe-making lady kept busy ... it was fascinating to watch her at work!

I think I might like this; maybe I should taste it with my granddaughters!

[google note: baba ghannouj is made of cooked and mashed eggplant, mixed with seasonings!]

After our picnic in a park, David snapped this photo of me

with someone's mother's day greeting.

Here's a peek inside the spectacular Terminal Tower, which stood as the tallest building in North America outside of New York City from its completion in 1930 until 1964. (thank you, Wikipedia) YES - second tallest building in the world until 1964 - crazy!

And finally, the Indians-Tampa Bay Rays game on Tuesday evening.

I appreciated that these gentlemen behaved like, well, gentlemen.

The row behind us made too many trips to the beer concession stand.

I do like a good baseball game.

As sports go, it's generally refreshingly civilized.

And David, you haven't seen the last of me in Take Two!

blogger problems

It seems that Blogger, which is how I post, was down for about a day. If you commented on my last post (and at one point I saw 3 comments), they have disappeared. So I'd appreciate if you'd re-comment! Thanks.

Insane week .... will try to get a new post up soon!

full

"Feeling so full of love and gratefulness after a sweet two days."

 ~ quote borrowed from Donna Boucher - a photographer/blogger I follow.

When my kids were around 13 to 19, they let me know they were

smarter and cooler than me. No yelling at mom: not allowed.

But subtle things got the message across:

don't walk, talk, laugh or eat with me in public

don't dress too old - or too young

don't kiss me when you drop me off at school

and for heaven's sake,

don't touch me!

But then our kids jumped from the nest and began living real life:

paying bills, buying a car, feeding themselves and doing taxes.
Then mom and dad are suddenly smarter!
We spent the last two days with David, our oldest.
When he's working, I'm still not allowed to hug him or ask him to pose for a photo. Awkward. But otherwise, he seemed totally comfortable hanging out, eating, laughing, talking, and walking down the street with me.

It was a full and sweet time and I am grateful.
Grateful he loves his career.
Grateful to laugh together.
Grateful that a grown son seemed to enjoy being with us.
Grateful I no longer have any 14-year-olds!
Grateful for a full heart.



 

Mother's Day

Try as I might to make it otherwise,

this weekend always delivered a mixed bag of emotions.

My mother died on May 7, 1979.

I wish like anything it hadn't been Mother's day week.

For a few years, I'd tear up when I walked past
the displays of Mother's Day cards.

I told myself to get a grip, to accept what is.

But it took many years for me to see God's gentle hand

in the loss of my mother.

Though I sought the friendship, advice
and encouragement of other women,

I also learned to be a strong and resourceful mother on my own.
I learned to appreciate my children and focus on them more than my loss.

Recognizing my shortcomings, I also learned
that I needed God more than a mother.

I am learning to be an encouragement to younger women.

Titus 2:4-5 says:
... train the younger women to love their husbands and children,
to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind,
and to be subject to their husbands ...

Mom was selfless and humorous, enormously generous with her love.
I know she'd tell me to quit whining about her not being here,
and get busy loving others.
   Mothers shape their children, but also the parents they might become.
It's a two-for-one deal and it's powerful to ponder.

Whether or not you are a mother, and whether or not your mother is in your life now, think on the valuable lessons she taught 
and seek to share them with others.
 That, I think most mothers would say,
is the best way to honor them.