stayed home for Mother's Day

Mother’s Day today. I decided to indulge myself and stay in my own home and celebrate myself today. I am trying to keep at bay the guilt about not travelling to my own mother’s town to take her out to an expensive lunch. I will actually see her in less than two weeks, when I will drive to her town and bring her back to ours for a few days to see the kids and watch one of them in a sports event. She does not like to drive and will not make the trip herself, so has rarely seen my kids doing any of the things that kids want their grandmothers to see them do. So, since I was the black sheep who made the choice to move a few hours away from the homestead, I will make the double drive and retrieve her to stay in the guest room (we actually have one now!) and drive her back over the weekend. Maybe I’ll even take her out for an expensive lunch.


But today I am celebrating my own motherhood. I have already been treated to breakfast in bed. Seriously! I think this is the first time I have ever had that. My son planned it, and he helped my husband cook it, and teen daughter got up early to tape a handmade sign on the bathroom mirror. But we realized that the problem with having breakfast in bed is that you cannot eat with your family. Either they sit and watch you eat while their breakfast waits and gets cold, or they eat first while yours gets cold. And so, being a practical women, I gave hugs and gushed thank-you’s all around and sent them back downstairs to eat while I stayed in bed with my lovely tray complete with fresh flowers.



I am never still in my bed during this time of day with the blinds open and the morning sun coming through the windows, and I looked around my bedroom and enjoyed the pale seafoam color of the walls against the green of the spring leaves outdoors. And then suddenly a rare beam of sunlight made its way through the windy May clouds and lit up the room. And I glanced up and noticed our peach tree, whose topmost branches reach up to these second floor windows. And as I looked, I noticed peaches! Cute little, soft as baby’s ears peaches barely an inch long. I swear those were peach blossoms only a couple of weeks ago—could it really have been a month already since Easter when an early spring heatwave set the blooming trees ablaze with pink and peach and pure white? Imagine, in a few months I’ll be able to reach outside my bedroom window and pick a ripe peach. Seriously—who wouldn’t have wanted to buy this house?



So I indulge in the perfection of the rich black coffee, and the sour sweet taste of the warm lingonberry popover and the luscious combination of strawberries and cream while I hear my family eating downstairs, low voices talking, and forks clinking against plates. I begin to mentally map out the day. I love them dearly but what I really want from them is not gifts, not presents to open, just a bit of help so that I may enjoy some peace and solitude that allows my mind to create. I plan out some chores that they can accomplish without my supervision, so that maybe for a couple of hours, I will be able to unlock the non-Mom side of my brain, and try to dream, and think, and create. To listen to the scary wild storm winds brewing outside, to soak in the seafoam of bedroom walls, to regain some balance from the helter skelter of daily mom-hood and become just me for while, so that I have a better chance of . . .





keeping a grip, Deb


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5. spent all day reading my book club book

Well, not exactly all day. I went to work, performed my job, came home and walked the dog, arranged for a friend to come over and play with my son, and then I spent the rest of the day (except when my husband and daughter came home at dinner time and I heated up leftovers and ate with the family) reading my book club book. At least three hours.  Still, it seemed like such a sheer indulgence. I believe it had lots to do with the temperature that day. It was one of those perfect spring days when the air is warm, but not too hot, and there is a periodic breeze that has the cool refreshment of a drink of water. Spring flowers are blooming, and I should be working in my garden, but this book needs to be read by tomorrow’s meeting and I still have over 300 pages to read. Yes, yes, I know there is no possible way I can finish it. But I really am enjoying the book, it is one of those I would never have chosen or known about if one of the other ladies had not chosen for us, but now I feel I know the characters so well. I have lived with them and grown with them and suffered with them and I want to know if fate will ever be kind to them, or if they are doomed to continue the hard life that has been their lot so far.


It was simply delicious sitting on the back deck in the shade and I even painted my toenails and read while the coats were drying. This is only a once or twice per year procedure for me---a necessity at this time of the year when sandals are pulled out and toes are in the public eye. I am not a woman who is friends with nail polish. (first of all, to have that block of uninterrupted time when you are unable to do anything else at all for 15-20 minutes while your hands and/or feet are totally out of commission? Yeah, sure) I am a woman who is using her hands constantly and her feet nearly as often. A woman who loves to go barefoot, whose hands are either in water or dirt or touching fabric or children or paper or a keyboard. I am a sewer, a gardener, a typer, a cleaner, a cook, a craftsman, a deck power-washer, a drywall joint compound-sander, etc, etc, depending on the project of the moment. Who wants to worry about their fingernails?


In the end, I did not finish the book before the club meeting time. But I will some day. I met with my lady friends, mostly new acquaintances since this was our initial meeting. We talked, discussed, chatted and drank wine. We agreed, disagreed, voted and gossiped. We ate lemon squares and chose our next books and meeting times. And then a wonderful thing happened--as everyone was saying their good byes the hostess asked me to stay longer and talk. So I did. We drank another bottle of wine and talked and talked, and I felt like I made a new friend. Just the beginning, still getting to know each other’s stories, but we found some common ground, and found that we relate in many ways, both of us knowing we are more comfortable as part of a duet than a crowd.
 And then I walked the short distance to my home, and quietly snuck inside, feeling like a teenager who was out past curfew and does not want to wake his parents. But the kids stayed sleeping, and my husband was still up reading the newspaper in bed.


Getting home tipsy at 11:15 on a school night! My, my! It’s all part of . . .



keeping a grip, Deb

gather ye rosebuds . . .

Ahhhh. . . May 1, May Day. I hope all you lovely ladies out there were up early to catch the morning dew and pat it on your face so that you will stay youthful and beautiful all year long. I remember reading about this old tradition during a British Literature class decades ago while we were reading poetry by Robert Herrick, “gather ye rosebuds while you may . . . Corinna’s gone a’ Maying. . .“

Well, it’s worth a try, right? So teen daughter and I try to keep the tradition alive. You never know. Hmm, this year May 1 falls on a Saturday, maybe I can lightly dampen her face while she is still in bed and allow her to sleep in and still get her beauty dew.
I, on the other hand, will be Yard-Saleing instead of sleeping in. Spring means yard sale time is beginning again after the cold, dark, cooped-up Mid-Atlantic winter, and there is no time to lose. The early bird gets the good stuff!. I actually was successful in luring my husband into the world of yard sales a couple of years ago. Sure, he'd had his own yard sales to get rid of unwanted items lots of times, but he never went to other people’s yard sales to buy. Until a couple of summers ago when we had just moved into our current house. We finally had space to spread out. And actually a lot of empty space for a while.  (Okay, a relatively short while.)  It started with me whining and complaining about missing out on some great pieces of furniture that I did not want to commit to purchasing without his okay.  The next weekend he came along just in case he was needed.  And then he kinda got hooked as well.  He was the one who started cutting the ads out of the newspaper and circling the times and neighborhoods, planning our defense to cover the largest geographic area in the most efficient route.  We started keeping the minivan backseats in the garage to free up possible storage space, to keep supplies of cash in the form of small bills in our wallets, to keep the alarm set on work week time even on Saturdays.  We would be up, washed, dressed with commuter cups of hot beverage and toast in a napkin and driving to our first location by 7:30.  We could cover 7 or 8 sales and be back before the kids woke up. 

And then?  Well, the new house started filling up and we needed to learn to slow down and think before purchasing.  Maybe only 3 or 4 sales per Saturday.  Keep a mental list of items we actually need, and try to avoid those impulse purchases.  The slower pace has worked pretty well.  We unloaded some unnecesaries at a yard sale of our own last summer.  We keep a limited amount of small bills in our wallet and stop when those are depleted.  We've learned to control our habit.  And now, the kids have even started getting up early some Saturdays to join us. 
Looks like we've started a new tradition.

keeping a grip, deb