a gypsy caravan

pink rollers and white nightgowns

“Stories have to be told or they die, and when they die, we can't remember who we are or why we're here.”

--Sue Monk Kidd,  The Secret Life of Bees

Yesterday evening was beautifully slow. It was the kind of evening that I would love to rewind and replay over and over. 

 After dropping the boys off at summer camp, we spent the day swimming, got far too much sun, and, generally, wore ourselves out.  I was looking forward to a relaxing evening. I had the girls shower when we got home from swimming and I slathered Noxzema on their shoulders and faces. (Noxzema is the best for sunburns.) We all put on our cotton nightgowns. It was only suppertime but I knew they'd be cool and comfortable for the rest of the evening if they got in their nighttime clothes. In the winter, the girls and I wear flannel. But, in the summertime, we each have a white, cotton nightgown that make a body cool just by looking at them. 

We went outside and sat on the glider under the tall maple trees. We made some iced coffee, sat, rocked and sipped. Then they played a game where one child sings and the others dance. When the singing stops, the dancer must freeze in position. It was so fun to watch them dancing and hear them sing their songs.

There was a general air of silliness and much laughter happening in the yard. I ran inside to get my camera because I thought the girls looked so pretty with their suntanned faces, wearing their white nightgowns. Of course, no one wanted their photos taken but I snuck a few in anyway. We ate a shrimp cocktail which tasted wonderfully salty on a hot summer evening.

After the singing and dancing game, I put the Glenn Miller station on Pandora. It reminded me of my grandma and how we'd sit outside in her yard in the evenings in our nightgowns when I was a child. She'd play big band music on the record player loudly through the patio screened door so that we could hear it in the yard. 

 Then I rolled the girls' hair and mine in pink foam rollers and went back inside to watch the Great and Powerful Oz. My girls like to their wear pink rollers to bed and wake up with a head of ringlets. I've been setting mine often lately and attempting a lot of the vintage hairstyles from this book. (The vintage makeup book by the same author is fabulous as well.) 

It was an evening that was nothing particularly special yet everything felt special about it. Ever have a day like that? One that you'd like to freeze in time or put in the back of your mind to chew on a while?  

my pleasure

(You'll forgive the out of focus iPhone photos, won't you?)

We recently returned from a vacation to Chicago. The last (and first time) we went to Chicago was 15 years ago when a dear friend got married. My mom, Ben (who was only a toddler) and I spent one or two days in the Windy City and really didn't see much. This time, however, we planned a thorough visit and stayed in the heart of downtown Chicago. The guys wanted to center the trip around baseball which made for a fun time for them. They saw the Cubs, the White Sox and even took a short road trip to Milwaukee to watch a Brewers game. This left plenty of time for the girls and I to go shopping, swimming and have some girly fun.  

I made reservations for lunch at Chicago's American Girl Cafe. I imagined it to be such a special afternoon and the girls and I looked so forward to sharing lunch there. We were told that the girls could bring their dolls and that chairs would be provided for them as well. I wasn't certain whether Mae would sit for a fancy lunch but opted to bring her and her Bitty Baby (whose name is Flower by the way). I am so glad Mae came along. 

As we walked into the restaurant, I felt a certain heaviness in my chest that has become a common feeling since my mom died. So many times, when we are doing something fun or happy, I pause for a moment and wish she were there alongside me and my family. I thought how pleased she'd be with the restaurant, the tea and the day spent with the girls. I didn't want my feelings to ruin the meal or the day but I found myself choking back tears as we sat down to eat.  After we were seated, our waitress brought a small appetizer of vegetables, fruit and cheese stuffed pretzels which the girls really enjoyed. She also placed a small pink box on our table that contained something she called Table Talkers which were, essentially, just small strips of paper that contained a topic for pleasant conversation.  

Mary pulled the first paper from the box and read it aloud, "What is your favorite book and why?".  Then Anne pulled her paper from the box, "What is your favorite childhood memory?" Each of the girls shared a special moment and I choked out, "Drinking tea with my mother." It's funny to me that if I were to have one last hour to spend with my mother, I would spend it sitting across from her at the table drinking one last cup of tea.  Some people might want to do something exciting or adventurous, something truly memorable with their loved one. But tea was a daily sharing for my mom and I and would be my one wish. 

When the box was passed to me, I chose my slip of paper which read, "Describe your dream job." The girls shared a number of things that they might like to be such as a mommy, a marine biologist, a horse lesson teacher, etc.  When it came time for me to give my answer, I stuttered and stumbled about my answer because, as I was speaking, it occurred to me. I am living my dream job.

My dream twenty years ago was to stay home with my children and spend daily time with each of them, to cook for them, clean for them, read stories to them, to braid their hair and play catch with them and cheer them up when they are sad.  And somewhere, along the way, I'd lost sight of the fact that I am living that dream on a daily basis. A huge smile spread across my face and I said, "My dream is to spend each day being your mommy." The girls smiled and laughed and said I was sure lucky to be able to be the mommy of so many children. 

How shortsighted I've been lately, going through my days like a horse with its blinders on.  How apathetic I've been about the opportunity to wake each morning and be doing exactly what I had dreamt of for so many years! I realized that I need to act like I am working at my dream job. My family should know how wonderful my life is by the smile on my face each day. My tone of voice should reflect the happiness in my heart.  I should speak to my children the same way those cheerful, polite Chic-fil-a workers talk to each and every customer! Do you know what I mean? They speak sweetly and respectfully to even the difficult and cantakerous customers! Can I answer each of my children's many demands with "My pleasure" ? Because I should be able to do so daily if I am cognizant that I am living my dream, working my dream job. 

Funny that Mae (who was only one when my mother died and really should have no memory of her) blurted out during our dessert in a sweet voice, "My grandma in heaven would weeeeeeally wuv dis pretty place!" It made me happy that someone other than myself was thinking of her and missing her just a wee bit.  

june happiness

(The porch wants painting, I know. I'm hoping that's on the agenda for this summer.)

This time last spring, we planted 48 strawberry seedlings that were no taller than my thumb. We were told by the friendly older Amish man who sold them to us that we should pinch off the blossoms that first season so that the plants would put more energy into their leaves. This would make for a bumper crop next season (now). We did what we were told.  That man surely knew what he was talking about because our strawberry bed is filled to the brim with berries. Annie wakes every morning and takes her wooden berry basket out for an early picking. We've been having berries for breakfast for the last week and we couldn't be happier. I think after the shell peas are done this season, I am going to plant another bed of strawberries for twice the fun next year. 

We have a friend who redesigns kitchens and he gave us a Sub Zero upright freezer (that someone no longer wanted because it was the wrong color for their new kitchen) for the cost of one homemade pie. Can you imagine? Me neither. We are now the proud owners of a new freezer which is already filling up with produce and other goodies. 

The aforementioned shell peas are growing like gangbusters. The girls have been picking them every day but most are going into their mouths rather than into the freezer. I did manage to put away a quart sized bag before they ate them all. The other night we sat on the porch, rocked and shelled peas together.

I found a treasure at the antique show at our fairgrounds last weekend. Have you ever heard of a Mammy rocker? It is a two or three person rocking chair with a little gate behind which you can lay your baby/toddler and rock them to sleep. They were popular in the Civil War era and I have wanted one since I first became a mother.  The gate is removable if two bigger people want to rock instead of rocking a baby. I outfitted it behind the gate with a little pillow and a woolen blanket for Mae to lay comfortably. 

When I found it at the antique show and saw how little they wanted for it, I welled up with tears which seems silly, I know. But the thought of being able to rock Mae to sleep on the porch on warm summer nights while singing her some lullabies really choked me up. I hope she has fond memories of that green Mammy rocker and her Mama shelling peas while she rocked off to sleep. 

 

kathryn

My grandmother, Kathryn, is my father's mother.  She has lived a long and beautiful life. She is ninety-seven years old and, until two months ago, was living independently in her own home. Recently she had been hospitalized and is now in a hospice care center. She is dying. I flew to visit her last week to say goodbye. While she has lived a long, long time, it still makes me so sad that she will be leaving us soon. Do we ever feel prepared to say goodbye to those we love? No matter what my age, the death of someone close to me makes me feel like a child. 

(Grandma and baby Annie a several years ago)

After losing my mother a little over a year ago and my father a dozen years ago (can it really be that long?), I do not feel qualified to be the oldest person in my family. It's not because I have a problem with my age but because I feel badly for my children not to have another generation older than their mother with whom they can have a day to day relationship. Their local grandparents have died. They have another loving set of grandparents living in Florida.  While we cherish the small amounts of time we spend with them, those short visits do not allow for a daily relationship built on hours and hours of unplanned time together from which they can learn about life. I can't help but wish they had long, even boring, stretches of time with someone older than themselves, someone who isn't their parent, someone with the time to spend and the patience to teach. 

As a child and even a young adult, I had my grandparents nearby to ask advice and to spend not just "quality time" but "quantity time". I spent time with my grandparents helping them do everyday things rather doing anything altogether special or well planned.  We cooked. We baked countless Christmas cookies year after year. We fed the birds. We read the comics in the newspaper. We walked the dog. We sat in the lounge chairs in the back yard and listened to Bobby Vinton. We hung the laundry on the line. We drank lemonade in the summertime with paper umbrellas in the glasses. We shopped at TJ Maxx. We set our hair in rollers. We played the organ. We cooked paprikash. We played cards. It all amounted to beautiful relationships and memories galore. I want that for my children and yet I cannot give it to them. 

(Grandma and Christopher in 2006)

The kids and I recently talked about what a fantastic card player Grandma is. Rarely does anyone beat her.  If they do, she quickly gathers up the cards, shuffles them and deals another hand. She'll play for hours. And yet, it is the only game I have ever seen her play. She is of the generation that values hard work, drinks black coffee, wears things out. Until only recently,  she cooked, cleaned and ironed like nobody's business. But she also knew how to relax. In the evenings, she likes to watch Jeopardy. And I think she could beat all of the television contestants on any given day.

Sigh. Our family will miss her tremendously. 

If you'd be so kind as to offer a prayer for my grandmother Kathryn, I'd so appreciate it. 

gratitude

~hummingbirds every 60 seconds at the feeders

~barns made from blocks filled with little farm animals on the screen porch

~little girls making blanket forts in the living room

~baseball playoffs completed

~toad houses

~the slow, quiet healing that comes from living among the trees

~washing and folding cloth diapers in anticipation

~nutella

~boys who prepare breakfast or wash floors without being asked

~lots of "practice" contractions

~my mother who never fails to love us

Our Lady of Guadalupe

Yesterday, our family had a celebration for Our Lady of Guadalupe.  We have had a party for her almost every every year since Ben was a toddler.  Usually we have enchiladas, spanish rice and punch, sometimes carry out tacos if time is short or there is a new baby.  Often we play pin the tail on the donkey, do the mexican hat dance.  One year we had a pinata.  This year, we used the lovely ideas by Alice Gunther who so generously shares her creative Liturgical Teas at her blog Cottage Blessings.  Last winter some ladies from our homeschooling group got together and used Alice's plans in a group setting.  I vowed this year I would do them at home with my entire family.   My mother came over and helped prepare the food.  I wish I had photos of the food to share with you but I was so caught up in the festivities that I did not take any.  Every thing on the menu was delicious, lovely and meaningful.  

I placed a small potted rose plant next to Our Lady's picture on the table alongside our perpetual candle lit in her honor.  The children behaved well and were attentive, the food was done on time and everyone had a wonderful evening.  That doesn't all happen very often, where everything just seems to fall into place.  In fact, earlier in the day everyone was upset and grumpy.  It did not seem that our party was going to get off the ground.  Children were irritable and our family was sad.  Our dear friend has had some setbacks in his health, on the eve of the day we had hoped for a miracle.  He had to postpone his trip to Mexico City.  So we continue to pray on his behalf and are grateful to those of you who are praying along with us.

When the table was spread and the story of Our Lady was being read, everyone forgot their grumpiness and became quite grateful. Grateful for a home in which to live, for a plot of land on which to romp, for a family who loves them, for the friendship of those who truly care about our family.  All of these things we recognize as having come from God, through the intercession of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the patron saint of our family.  

Gratitude

Flannel sheets

Good Earth herbal tea

Cardinals, chickadees and nuthatches at the feeders

Friday biscuits with honey

Cotton tights

Nat King Cole

New brakes on the van

A plentiful woodpile

Advent candles

Gently falling snow 

Not to Miss

Do read Ann's post this morning:

Choose the View

Thank you, Ann.

I'm Grinning from Ear to Ear

Sunday Evening Gratitude

I have mentioned in the past that our basement is prone to flooding.  It happens two or three times a year, sometimes more often depending on the amount of rainfall we receive.  Our floods are caused by the city storm sewer becoming overwhelmed and backing up into our basement. 

Friday, we had quite a storm.  The basement drain started to back up at dinner time but receded that evening.  Saturday morning we woke to 4 inches across the entire basement.  We are veterans at basement floods.  We have probably had twenty of them in the eight years that we have owned this home but they always incite a bit of panic when the water first starts to come in the house. 

I bought stock in Rubbermaid years ago and have approximately 30 bins in my basement that hold all of our storage items.  Our home does not have an attic or I would forgo the basement altogether.  The Rubbermaid bins work wonderfully until the water rises high enough that they begin to capsize, dumping their contents into the water.   

I have a list of things I am grateful for today as I am trying to keep my spirit from feeling weary from the clean up. 

Here goes! :)

I am thankful:

• for my mother who never tires in loving and helping our family
• for frozen pierogies, frozen corn and frozen Tyson Chicken Nuggets
• for paper plates and paper napkins
• for 55 gallon heavy duty garbage bags
• for rubber gloves
• for the folks who make Clorox bleach and disposable mop heads
• that my lilac bush is in bloom
• that my downstairs appliances still work
• for this very twaddly movie that kept my children occupied while I scrubbed the basement with bleach water
• for Crocs that can be hosed off and are always up to the task
• for Burt's Bees Super Shiny Lip Gloss in  Sweet Pink that makes me feel just a little less grungy :)
• for a glass of Selbach Piesporter Riesling
• for Mass this morning where baby Annie folded her chubby hands and prayed for me

That's all for now.  I hope you have a wonderful evening with your family. Thanks for stopping by!

Gratitude Today

Waking to a winter wonderland

Homemade donuts

Achieving the rank of First Class

Two vanloads of clutter hauled away to charity

Hot Cinnamon Tea

A call from a friend whose ultrsound was PINK!

So happy for you, Anne and Nick!

A Visit with Kathryn: Slowing the Pace

The girls and I recently returned from a five day trip to Florida where we visited my 91 year old grandmother, Kathryn.  Kathryn has a ranch home of her own about ten minutes from the sea where she has lived for the past 60 years.  She and my grandfather lived there together until his passing 12 years ago.  Her home has no microwave, no dishwasher, no internet service.  It has one rotary telephone and a television that catches three channels which is only turned on for Jeopardy and the evening news.  She makes her coffee in a stove top percolator.  She reads the newspaper and does the crossword puzzle each day.

There are many things that I learned from this visit with my grandmother which I plan to blog about but the one thing that most interested me was the way time passed slowly while we were there.  There was something so soothing and beautiful about her peaceful life.  She was interested in only the task at hand.  Whether it was cooking bacon, crocheting a cotton rug or rolling Mary's hair in rag curls for the night, she was fully there.  There's no multi-tasking in my grandmother's world, just a slow, steady persistence and an enjoyment of it all.

Grandma ran the sprinkler for the girls to play in each day.   She also filled a small tub of water for them to soak in which she put on her back patio.  I thought it would only be a matter of minutes before the girls lost interest in the little tub of water.  Grandma supplied them with some plastic cups and they played for hours.  Hours!  We sat in lawn chairs and watched them, laughing at their crazy antics and letting them pour water on our tired feet.

Each night at around eight o'clock the girls grew sleepy and we put them to bed together, plum tuckered out from a full but simple day.  Then, all the dishes being done right after dinner, Grandma and I sat and played rummy or Skip-Bo and talked for the rest of the night.  There was no mad rush to get on the computer, no turning on the television, just the sound of the crickets and the gentle hum of our conversation.

I have made it my goal to bring some of that peace home from Kathryn's house.  I hope to slow things down here a bit, to take it one thing at a time and savor the rhythm of each day.  I want my children to remember the crawling of time and the enjoyment of a simple life.  I do not want them to remember a mother who spent her days staring at a computer screen, unavailable and unfriendly.  I want them to look back and remember their mother sitting in the lawn chair, sipping a lemonade, with nowhere to be but right there.

Kissing Their Hands

Have you read this beautiful idea from Kristen at Small Treasures?   She recommends a small act of love and humility to overcome impatience with our children. Thank you, Kristen.

Here I Sit, Sipping and Stalling

I am having a delicious cup of tea, sent to me by a dear friend (you know who you are!) as a Christmas gift.  I am, normally, a teabag kind of girl but this tea came in the loose form, which strikes me as much more elegant, old fashioned and romantic.  It is also so fun for me to finally get a glimpse of the elusive tea leaf itself.  I have never really paid much attention to what was inside those little bags but now the entire tea making process has come to life and I am thoroughly enjoying it.

I am not certain how much to use for each cup or pot.  A teaspoon?  A tablespoon?  Several?  I have experimented here and there and every cup turns out delightfully different and equally delicious in its own way.  Anyone with suggestions on how much loose tea to brew can help me out in the comment section.   

Tonight, I went to Target and bought myself a new tea kettle as well as one of those modern glass tea "pots" with the glass infuser inside.  It really looks more like a little glass pitcher.  I needed a new kettle to heat the water and I have grown tired of my father's hand-me-down Corningware 1970's tea kettle which is far too old to google and far too ugly to link even if I were able to locate a photo. I bought this one with a Christmas gift card that a thoughtful relative gave to me.

Anyhow, I am supposed to be taking down my Christmas tree this evening.  I have about three quarters of the ornaments off but all of lights are still twinkling.  The needles are poking me and falling all over the floor as I take down the ornaments.  Tomorrow is trash day so I am up against that deadline.  I know, I know, it is not Epiphany yet.  I really should leave the tree up until then.  But this year, I am taking it down early because I would like to start back to lessons on Monday and I still have my closets to finish.  Yes, you read that right, closet"s". The singular closet has turned into plural. 

Have you ever started a project only to find that it is contingent upon another project and another and yet another?  That is where I am at right now-- in the middle of the gnarled up ball of yarn that is my household closet system.  We are purging and we are organizing and we are installing lower bars for the kiddos.  We are adding bins and shelves and making a grand old mess all in the name of organization. We are stepping over wooden blocks and books and Lincoln Logs that are all in the hallway now that the clothes are in the closets.  Somewhere, down the road a few days, it will all fall into place but right now it feels like the "storm before the calm".  Everything must get messy in order to get tidy.  Maybe you know that feeling. 

But rather than clean up my closets and take down my balding tree, I am thinking of how blessed I am to have real, honest to goodness friends.  I am sitting.  And sipping.  And savoring.  And stalling...and smiling.

Giving Credit Where Credit is Due

Do you see this beautiful couple? The woman is holding a little, dark curly haired baby girl...their godchild.  That baby is my little Mary Kathryn (who is no longer dark or curly)! 

How have a kept a blog for all these months and not introduced you to my dear friends Barbara and Blair?  I am most horrified that I have not done so until now. 

Barbara and I met ten years ago when my oldest son was only a few weeks old. She was a La Leche League leader at one of the meetings I attended as a new mother.  I did not know much about being a mother except the very little I had read in a few mainstream books (that I will not link).  I had never changed a diaper before I changed my son's on the day I brought him home from the hospital.  I was an only child who had never babysat an infant.  In fact, I had only held one baby in my life (and only for ten minutes) before holding my firstborn son. 

I had many questions about the ins and outs of motherhood, both from a practical standpoint as well as an emotional one.  I began to see much in Barbara that I wanted to emulate as a mother.  She was soft spoken, patient to a fault and always had something good to say about people.  I was impulsive, rambled incessantly about anything and everything and was very impatient with myself and others.  I watched her and began to imitate the things that I loved about her.

I spent a couple of months attending those La Leche League meetings, learning how to mother my baby and not just provide nourishment for him.  Barbara invited me to her home one day for tea.  I met her children and was taken aback.  Here were kind, smart and friendly children! Seven of them!  They were homeschooled, which I had never heard of before.  Yes, she taught them herself.  She also, horror of horrors :), did not own a television...hadn't had one in many years.  What did they do for fun?  Why they played and acted out stories they had read in books.  They drew and sang and played instruments.  They did what children will do when given large amounts of time with which to work. 

There was something else about that family that was special.  I could not put my finger on what it was until Benjamin was almost a year old and Barb and I both volunteered to worked at an organic cooperative farm each Thursday.  It was almost an hour away.  Once Barb learned that I was planning to buy a farmshare and work on the same day that she was, she offered to drive the baby and I in her van.   Benjamin and I rode in her big van with all those children.  When they would drive down the highway, they would sing or read aloud to one another.  But before anything else, they would pray some prayers for safe travel...Hail Marys and Our Fathers and other prayers that (somewhere in the recesses of my Evangelical Protestant mind) I remembered from my childhood as a Catholic.  I prayed along, happy to remember the words I had uttered as a child with my mother by my bedside. 

We spent the summer picking spinach, green beans and sweet basil.  My baby rode in his backpack and munched on blueberries from the bushes on the farm.  Week after week, I said those prayers and rode in that van of happy children and fresh produce.  Finally, Barbara asked me one day whether I was a Catholic.  I explained that I used to be but was now a Christian. She smiled and asked if I'd like to come over for another cup of tea...

After much tea and many visits to her home, I returned to the Church I had forsaken years earlier.  The reason I returned was primarily because of the prayers and steadfast example of love offered to me from Barbara.  She and Blair answered my questions and patiently undid the false ideas I had about Catholicism.   My son was baptized just before his second birthday. 

She introduced me to beautiful literature and beautiful illustrations, lent me books like Honey for a Child's Heart and For the Children's Sake.  I researched Charlotte Mason, mainly due to that last book.  I learned the importance of surrounding my children with beauty and goodness.  Also, my desire grew to provide a new and exciting learning environment for them.

So many areas of my life are richer having met Barbara.  Had I not met her, I would not parent the way that I do.  I would not feel comfortable bringing that baby into bed to snuggle with me. I would never have dreamt of homeschooling.  Do you know that the first time I saw an Advent log was over Blair and Barb's house?  Hers was the inspiration for mine.

I thank God, for so many reasons, that our paths crossed when they did. 

I love you, Barb.

Small Things I am Grateful for Today:

• Christopher learning to ride a two-wheeler this morning
• A glass of Chianti with dinner
• Annie's big toothless grin
• Turning over the soil in the flower beds this afternoon
• A hot bath with bubbles
• Clean sheets
• Taking a walk with Mom around the block tonight
• Mary telling me that she no longer wants to grow up to be a puppy but "would rather be a lady like her mommy" :)