Today has been one of those Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Days. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but only slightly. No, we haven’t experienced a major catastrophe, meltdown, illness or otherwise majorly stressful event. Rather, it’s been one of those days that wear you down, drop by drop, like a slow leak in your roof that’s hard to pinpoint. It’s hard to fix, because you can’t nail down the source.
After failing to get the mower started, and giving up on getting anything done outside (this God-forsaken Kansas wind!!!), I let the girls stay on our covered front porch to play while I went in and did dishes. I turned the AC off, and opened the storm door glass, so I could still hear them through the screen.
“Oh, hi sweetie. How was your day today? I …
This was one time I was happy to have clothes all over the floor.
Black plastic trash bags, old cardboard boxes, these packages of promise would arrive, usually during the summer, from distant cousins who were finally near on a much-anticipated vacation. “We brought Catherine some hand-me-downs. Take what you need!”
When I overheard these words exchanged between two coffee-cup holding adults, my juvenile heart would leap. Clothes. NEW clothes! You see, I never perceived we were poor or did without growing up (except that time some friends of my mom sent her home with bags of food). I always felt taken care of, though going clothes shopping at a retail store was a rarity. That was only for special occasions, or shoes. Good Lord, shoes. I think I was in a size 11 by sixth …
My little fam headed into the greatest show on earth.
“Mommy, where da elephants?”
As my toddler sat patiently in my lap while the ceremony began, I found it very odd that she would ask this question. We were, after all, not under “the big top,” but in a large auditorium watching not red-sequined trapeze artists, but red-gowned future graduates taking their seats. I could see how she might be confused though. Just a week ago, we sat in a large arena, waiting among a crowd eagerly anticipating a fantastic event.
As the pomp and circumstance began, I kissed her auburn hair, and let my mind linger back to a magical family moment at the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus at Intrust Bank Arena. I was happy to receive tickets from …
My sweet toddler perched on her own swingset in her own backyard.
My favorite part about tucking my toddler in each night (other than disciplining her multiple times for running out of her bedroom) is caressing her soft, smooth, round cheeks. I talk to her in a low voice, and wish her sweet dreams. The lights are very dim, but I can still see her liquid blue eyes as they start to take on a less alert state. Tonight, I asked if she wanted to pray, and was surprised when she took the lead. And because it was just so sweet, I must spell out her words exactly as she said them.
Heavenwee Fodder, pwease help my daddy, and my mommy, and my Anna. And pwease help my singset. Amen.
As I finished up with kisses and hugs, I …
I might just have a couple champion bowlers on my hands.
Until recently, I avoided taking my girls out in public as much as possible. Too stressful. Too scary. Too many factors outside my control. What if they ran off in a parking lot and got run over? Or kidnapped? What if they wander off in a crowded store? What if we get in a car accident? Or, most likely, what if they have a monster meltdown on the floor of a…wait for it…nasty public bathroom? Ew. I forgot about those. Babies R’ Us, a place that’s supposed to cater to the family types quite possibly has the worst restrooms, and don’t get me started on the “nursing” rooms, that seem perpetually covered in trash and poopy diapers.
Ok, so enough about the dangers of leaving …
Her touch makes everything better.
She never taught me how to style my hair, or do my makeup, or dress in the most flattering fashions. She didn’t teach me how to blow a bubble, ride my bike, or snap my fingers. I don’t recall her ever making cupcakes for my class, or putting on an elaborate birthday party. A box cake mix and a can of frosting was about as fancy as it got. We never went for mother/daughter manis or pedis, or spa days, or other such extravagances.
But in the end, as I reflect on my own journey of motherhood I realize that all the things my mother never did for me, are things that never really mattered at all.
She always taught me how to stand up for what I believe in, be loyal …