We took a trip to the playground this morning to let the girls get some sun, burn off some steam, and prep for a trip to a chaotic pre-Thanksgiving grocery store. They played on the playground for a while, then decided to play in the baseball field. They ended up repeatedly rolling down a hill.
MeToo ended up covered in leaves. They clung to her knit hat and somehow made their way down the back of her coat. She was unhappy about that. She yanked off the hat and handed it to me to fix.
I picked the leaves off of the hat and held it in my hands. It was made of basic off-white yarn, probably acrylic. It was simple in design, but quite warm. My grandmother had made that hat. She made it when HeyMama was very tiny, and the hat was comically large. She made it before she forgot how to knit. But now she's gone. And MeToo has grown up to fit into the hat perfectly.
I'm thankful for family members that make things. I like to think that Grandma knitted and purled love into that hat. I can see it in her hands, with the rings she always wore. I can see her knitting it in her favorite chair. Her love cradles MeToo's little ears and holds in her wispy blonde hair. MeToo won't remember my Grandma, she was a tiny baby when they last saw each other. And HeyMama will only remember the pictures and the stories that "Grandma Rose", the reason for HeyMama's middle name, typed up of her childhood adventures. But I can show them the hat she made for them - tangible proof that someone loved them.
I used to think that intentions mattered more than actions. But now I know that's not true. Actions can produce evidence of love that endures long after the gift-maker is gone. I'm blessed to have a home that is full of things made by loved ones. We have quilts, furniture, scrap books, and other odds and ends. I can touch the objects and feel the love that went into them. And for that I am thankful.
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| The Hat |
Dear HeyMama,
I hope you're always this optimistic. I hope you keep your ambition, your inner drive to try new things, to reach for the next accomplishment. I hope you always take the disappointments in stride. "Maybe next time," you say. And there's always a next time. And usually, it does work out better next time. You have failures. You have successes. And you just keep moving forward.
I don't know how you acquired this wonderful personality trait. I'm pretty sure your father and I had nothing to do with it. But it's a gift. I pray that you're always blessed with this gift. I pray that I never do anything inadvertently to crush your optimism. I pray that I can always help provide a successful next time. Or at least a step closer to success. And the encouragement to try it again with hopeful anticipation of success.
What prompted this letter to you my earnest little chattering ray of sunshine?
You decided last night that you'd try sleeping in undies instead of a pull-up. You're only 3 and a half. I don't expect you to stay dry. You really tried. You were really hopeful. But you woke up in a wet bed. You didn't seem too upset. You decided not to try again tonight. You didn't seem upset about that either. I hope I gave you the right amount of encouragement and support for your decision-making.
I watch you get braver and braver at the playground. You climb higher and higher. You let me move further and further away. You ask me not to be so helpful. And you succeed. You conquer the nervousness and fear you experience initially. And master ever larger and larger pieces of playground equipment.
I'm so proud of you. Not because of your successes, but because of your trying.
Love,
Your inspired Mama
I'd like you to meet my Mum. She's a lovely lady. This is her 34th Mother's Day.
And to celebrate, I'd like to share some fun facts about her from my childhood.
- Though usually disguised as a well-mannered and reserved Pastor's wife, she has a wicked silly streak.
- Growing up, she was the prettiest mom in our church. And we went to a big church.
- She taught me to chair-dance at the dinner table, bopping my head around while staying in my seat.
- Earlier in my life, she showed me how to live a life of volunteering, rarely saying "No" to anything.
- Later in my life, she showed me that knowing how to say "No" is just as important as knowing how to say "Yes".
- She showed me how to take strong feelings and speak them in gentle words.
- She showed me how to wear bold colors. And tasteful makeup.
- She taught me about Tony Chachere's Creole Seasoning, the wonder seasoning that works wonders.
- She taught me to make pie. I think I was 4...
- She showed me that even if you don't like being the center of attention, sometimes you just suck it up and speak in public.
- She showed me the importance of prayer. And Faith. And Hope. And Grace.
- She told me that emotions are just emotions. We can't control or change them. But actions, that's what we can control and change.
- She showed me that patience is a virtue. (Unfortunately, she never taught me the secret to being patient...)
- She showed me what living in a clean and organized house was like. (Never mind that I've forgotten...)
- She showed me that making something can be the best part about having something. (BestestHusband, the craft supplies in the spare bedroom are all her fault...)
- She told me that holding myself to my own values and goals was far better than living up to someone else's. Besides, my goals were harder anyway.
- She gave me space to let my imagination wander.
- She gave me time to learn to entertain myself.
- She taught me to play car games, looking for letters in highway signs and funny billboards. We went on a lot of car trips.
- She taught me to sing at any time. Make up a song, if needed.
- She encouraged my interests.
- She told me that "sometimes, you just need a good cry."
- She gave lots of hugs.
- She demonstrated what joy looks like.
Nowadays, she lives a time zone away. A long flight + a long drive, or a long flight + a long layover + a short flight away. It's much much too far. And I miss her.
Happy Mother's Day, Mum!
Nine months before HeyMama was born, we adopted our first children: sheltie puppies named Mandy and Cameron. We didn't know I was already pregnant with HeyMama at that time, which is probably good. I'm not sure I would have willingly taken on pregnancy and dog training simultaneously. And morning sickness + dog smell = misery. But I think in retrospect, getting two dogs was one of the smartest things we've done for our family.
Lots of couples get a dog as their first "child." Now, as one mom on my local mommy list serve so helpfully pointed out during a debate about the presence of dogs in public, dogs are not really children and they can't be viewed as such. I guess that's why mine didn't enjoy breastfeeding so much... Kidding! I mean, DUH! I know they're not children! But that doesn't mean they don't demand love, attention, and a significant time and energy investment to help them be well-adjusted and happy family members. And they do ease you into the world of responsibility that prevents you from going out every night after work. And teach you about consistency in discipline. And child-proofing your home. And how to keep things in perspective when your belongings get destroyed. And your rug gets pooped on.
We didn't set out to get two dogs. We drove to the foster-family's house to choose one of the two. But we couldn't decide between them. And the poor skittish things were so happy together. How could we separate them?
Well, getting both was a decision I've never regretted. (BestestHusband occasionally does when he looks at vet bills...) They exercise each other by playing in the house. They entertain each other, and us. They keep each other company. And us. And they each have their own distinct personality that is a wonderful addition to our family.
I'll spend a few posts introducing you to Mandy and Cameron. They won't get mad at me when they're older for posting pictures of them on the internet...
It's Valentine's week. I introduced some girls that could really use a demonstration of kindness and love. I shared pictures of my anatomically correct gummy "Cupids" that BestestHusband gave me. I talked about the humiliation that parents accept from their children in the name of love. Now I will continue the Valentine's theme.
Do you love me? Or even like me a little?
Yesterday was my 50th blog post. Some of you tell me in person, emails, and FB posts that you love reading my blog. I'm honored, flattered, and thrilled to be a good part of your day. That's my goal, to highlight or share a bit of joy and encouragement every day. We all have days where it's hard to find. Some of us get in ruts where we don't see it for weeks. And certainly we know of friends or family who could use a bit of joy in their day.
So I'm entreating you to show me some love and share some Joy. Share my blog with others. Go to your favorite post right now and share it on Facebook and Twitter, or email it to everyone you know. Or just the people you think will like it. And every time I write something that makes you smile, pass it on.
I have delusions of becoming a Blogging Bazillionaire. Getting a book deal or 4. Getting flown around the world to visit you and do book signings. Oh wait, Pioneer Woman already did all of that. (Quick Digression: Pioneer Woman's coming to Boston in March!!! I can't wait!!! I'm totally getting my copies of her books autographed!) So far I've earned 13 cents on the ads to the right of my blog posts. That's just from page views. (I'd get more if people checked out the ads.) I'm on track to earn a dollar by the end of the year!
I also have delusions of being a global phenomenon. I apparently have readers in Russia, Ukraine, Germany, France, Burma, and the Netherlands. Have friends in other countries? Please feed my ego and get them reading my blog. Blogger keeps track of it, and checking it is a favorite form of procrastination.
So please comment on my posts. I'll comment. And show my love right back.
Love,
Joy
