Growing up in Northern California, I was used to going to the beach on Thanksgiving Day. It might not have been warm, but most often it was sunny and comfortable with a sweatshirt or vest. 20+ years in New Hampshire have most often brought freezing temperatures, rain, snow, grey skies or a combination thereof. Today, 2012, it is a perfect blue sky day.
Beloved daughter woke up and said, "Do you want to go for a walk with me this morning?" How can you say no to that? We walked, in the sunshine, laughing together. No one can be silly like my girl when she is in the mood. No one can make me laugh like she does. Nothing, nothing can make me happier than her WANTING to walk with me on a beautiful day.
Things to be thankful for: smart, happy, healthy, often sarcastic, funny, generous child.
Kind, loving spouse. Friends all over the country and world who try and stay in touch in one form of media or another (handwritten letters can make my day!). I am thankful that we have enough food, shelter, healthcare, educational opportunities and that we have enough to share. Thankful for our family, even if they make us crazy on occasion. They are still there throughout the years.
I am thankful for the people who allow me to care for their children. Having little kids in my life is an ongoing gift. William, Cooper, Ryan, Vivian for whom I babysit. Jack, Annie, Aiden and Eliza and all of the kids at the elementary school with whom I have read over the years, we have had so much fun together and watching you grow and learn to read is the BEST. I am also thankful for the elderly people who populate my life through Meals on Wheels and the nursing home where I work. Your grace and courage are inspiring.
The moms whose blogs I read, the Facebook friends who share portions of their lives...thank you all of adding to my days with your stories and for reaching out into the "virtual world".
I was not going to write a Thanksgiving blog, but reading the things that others had posted today, it seemed like an opportunity to say "Thank you". So, to you who may read this note. Thank you for being a part of my life.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
To make you laugh
I wrote this note to a new friend who is going through struggles with her child and I hoped it would make her laugh.
C -
In your current state of exhaustion I thought, maybe you need to laugh a little.
Last week my spouse got the dog she has been wanting for a long, long time. I caved in and said, "go ahead. get a dog." I have been the hold out for a long time. I know who the one who is home most of is - ME! I know who cares about fur on the furniture. ME! But, last Sunday the dog "Pip" arrived from a foster home and previous to that a kill shelter somewhere in the South.
So, today, in between my morning job (running Meals on Wheels) and my afternoon job (nursing home social work one day a week, the other afternoon job is childcare) I was home to see my beloved daughter (home from Spain and school doesn't start until after Thanksgiving) and to see how the dog is faring, as overnight she developed a cough that sounds like she is going to puke. I hook the dog to the leash and take her out for a quicky walk. And, at the intersection of our road with the next, she sits down. Actually she stands with her legs braced, as in "I am not moving and you can't make me". And I stand there, like an idiot, talking to her like one talks with a toddler/pre-schooler. "I would really appreciate it if you would come walk with me right now." ( I am doing this in my best, rational mommy voice). "Come on, Pip, I am cold and want to go home and have lunch." Pip is unmoved by my words. (more strongly) "Pip, COME". She doesn't move. I kneel and look her in the eye, "What's wrong? Are you scared?" Neighbors are driving by wondering why I am standing in the road with a dog statue. I am tugging the harness..."Come ON you silly dog!" (no movement, just a visible tightening of muscles) I pick her up and carry her (40 pound dog in my arms). I get her to our yard and say "Let's go in the house now" and she looks at me like "You think I am moving for you?" I end up carrying her into the house. INTO THE HOUSE!
I have always believed that having a dog was like having a toddler that never grows up and she is proving me to be correct. The only thing I did not do was take away privileges and offer cookies (I did not have any but I suggested to her that she could have a cookie when we got home). People have told me for years to get a dog and I always said "I want a baby , not a dog". Babies eventually grow up - dogs are perpetual toddlers. And you know what? I was right.
C -
In your current state of exhaustion I thought, maybe you need to laugh a little.
Last week my spouse got the dog she has been wanting for a long, long time. I caved in and said, "go ahead. get a dog." I have been the hold out for a long time. I know who the one who is home most of is - ME! I know who cares about fur on the furniture. ME! But, last Sunday the dog "Pip" arrived from a foster home and previous to that a kill shelter somewhere in the South.
So, today, in between my morning job (running Meals on Wheels) and my afternoon job (nursing home social work one day a week, the other afternoon job is childcare) I was home to see my beloved daughter (home from Spain and school doesn't start until after Thanksgiving) and to see how the dog is faring, as overnight she developed a cough that sounds like she is going to puke. I hook the dog to the leash and take her out for a quicky walk. And, at the intersection of our road with the next, she sits down. Actually she stands with her legs braced, as in "I am not moving and you can't make me". And I stand there, like an idiot, talking to her like one talks with a toddler/pre-schooler. "I would really appreciate it if you would come walk with me right now." ( I am doing this in my best, rational mommy voice). "Come on, Pip, I am cold and want to go home and have lunch." Pip is unmoved by my words. (more strongly) "Pip, COME". She doesn't move. I kneel and look her in the eye, "What's wrong? Are you scared?" Neighbors are driving by wondering why I am standing in the road with a dog statue. I am tugging the harness..."Come ON you silly dog!" (no movement, just a visible tightening of muscles) I pick her up and carry her (40 pound dog in my arms). I get her to our yard and say "Let's go in the house now" and she looks at me like "You think I am moving for you?" I end up carrying her into the house. INTO THE HOUSE!
I have always believed that having a dog was like having a toddler that never grows up and she is proving me to be correct. The only thing I did not do was take away privileges and offer cookies (I did not have any but I suggested to her that she could have a cookie when we got home). People have told me for years to get a dog and I always said "I want a baby , not a dog". Babies eventually grow up - dogs are perpetual toddlers. And you know what? I was right.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
She's Baaack!
First, because sometimes I just have to start with the news, I am stunned that people are HOARDING Twinkies due to the news that Hostess is closing its doors. Hoarding and Twinkies written in the same sentence just seems wrong somehow. I ate them as a child (most people over age 20 did, I guess) and once (just once, I promise) I bought a package and offered one to my daughter, just so she could see what a Twinkie was and say she had eaten one. I do not think she finished it and she thought it was utterly disgusting. I am sorry that 18,000 people are losing their jobs in the industry, but losing Twinkies (and related food items) doesn't strike me a a tragedy. The loss of jobs is devastating to those families and communities however and they have my sympathy.
The beloved child has returned from her sojourn in Spain. She had a fabulous time, loved her host family, loved Segovia and the country in general, loved tapas, and is now wondering how she can get back to Spain in the least amount of time. Coming home to a small New England town is hard, and our town does not have a lot to offer to teens and young adults. It is a great place to raise children, absolutely wonderful, but not a spectacular place to be 18 and spreading one's wings. So, beloved child says " I can't wait to go back to Spain." and my heart breaks a little bit. I understand, I sympathize, I admire her desire to travel and explore and be independent, and yet, I want her to want to be home, at least for a few days. Please?
And then, the homecoming....stuff everywhere, hair in the tub, computer on the table, dishes...on the mantel, in her room, and detritus spread everywhere letting me know she's baaaack. Already have had the discussion that "I'll get to it later" is not acceptable. World traveler or not, some things don't change.
She's home. I can see her and hear her again. She is slowly telling tales of her adventures and forming plans that will be her life away from home, soon. I am willing to make her grilled cheese and tomato soup at 10 p.m. because she won't be here very much longer to ask me to do it. Every moment from here on I am aware that she is leaving soon. I want to spoil her a little because my window of opportunity is drawing to a close.
Parenting a child who is ready to fly is not for the faint of heart.
The beloved child has returned from her sojourn in Spain. She had a fabulous time, loved her host family, loved Segovia and the country in general, loved tapas, and is now wondering how she can get back to Spain in the least amount of time. Coming home to a small New England town is hard, and our town does not have a lot to offer to teens and young adults. It is a great place to raise children, absolutely wonderful, but not a spectacular place to be 18 and spreading one's wings. So, beloved child says " I can't wait to go back to Spain." and my heart breaks a little bit. I understand, I sympathize, I admire her desire to travel and explore and be independent, and yet, I want her to want to be home, at least for a few days. Please?
And then, the homecoming....stuff everywhere, hair in the tub, computer on the table, dishes...on the mantel, in her room, and detritus spread everywhere letting me know she's baaaack. Already have had the discussion that "I'll get to it later" is not acceptable. World traveler or not, some things don't change.
She's home. I can see her and hear her again. She is slowly telling tales of her adventures and forming plans that will be her life away from home, soon. I am willing to make her grilled cheese and tomato soup at 10 p.m. because she won't be here very much longer to ask me to do it. Every moment from here on I am aware that she is leaving soon. I want to spoil her a little because my window of opportunity is drawing to a close.
Parenting a child who is ready to fly is not for the faint of heart.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Gran'pa Paul
I was thinking about my dad today, telling someone at work that dad was entirely predictable about some things and bought the same 15 groceries at the store every week. Then I stopped, thought about the date and went "Oh. Right. 18 years. Tomorrow." Memories always seem to come more strongly at an anniversary time.
Eighteen years ago my dad died, 11 months after he retired. He had saved a lot of things to do in life for when retirement came. Unfortunately, cancer came first and screwed up his plans. My dad was a funny guy. He liked jazz music, V-8 juice, meatloaf and bake sales. He was a recycler before recycling was cool, and he took public transportation to work whenever possible. He saved the same brown paper lunch bag to use over and over again until it was like fabric. My dad loved pie, cars and his kids. My dad never met his grandchildren.
And yet, his legacy lives on in each of them. I have been able to BE a mom because of my dad's generosity. I was able to adopt from China. I have had choices about staying home and working part time because my dad was a frugal guy and saved money. He thought getting a good deal was entertainment. A $5. Pendelton sports coat at the church rummage sale gave him a total thrill! He loved finding raisin danish on the day old rack at the grocery. Coupons and the dented can outlet in San Francisco were there just to challenge him. Being thrifty was a part of who he was and he reveled in it.
Days can go by without my really thinking of my dad and then something small will hit me and I think, "Dad would have liked that". He would have loved my girl and her desire to travel. He would have bonded with her over music and meatloaf. He would have happily taught her to check the oil in the car and how to change a tire. He would have gone to recitals and races and written her letters at camp.
On this, the anniversary of his death, I am grateful for the time we had together. I hope he sees this amazing girl I am raising and thinks to himself, "Yeah, I did a good thing there." Thanks, Dad. I love you.
Eighteen years ago my dad died, 11 months after he retired. He had saved a lot of things to do in life for when retirement came. Unfortunately, cancer came first and screwed up his plans. My dad was a funny guy. He liked jazz music, V-8 juice, meatloaf and bake sales. He was a recycler before recycling was cool, and he took public transportation to work whenever possible. He saved the same brown paper lunch bag to use over and over again until it was like fabric. My dad loved pie, cars and his kids. My dad never met his grandchildren.
And yet, his legacy lives on in each of them. I have been able to BE a mom because of my dad's generosity. I was able to adopt from China. I have had choices about staying home and working part time because my dad was a frugal guy and saved money. He thought getting a good deal was entertainment. A $5. Pendelton sports coat at the church rummage sale gave him a total thrill! He loved finding raisin danish on the day old rack at the grocery. Coupons and the dented can outlet in San Francisco were there just to challenge him. Being thrifty was a part of who he was and he reveled in it.
Days can go by without my really thinking of my dad and then something small will hit me and I think, "Dad would have liked that". He would have loved my girl and her desire to travel. He would have bonded with her over music and meatloaf. He would have happily taught her to check the oil in the car and how to change a tire. He would have gone to recitals and races and written her letters at camp.
On this, the anniversary of his death, I am grateful for the time we had together. I hope he sees this amazing girl I am raising and thinks to himself, "Yeah, I did a good thing there." Thanks, Dad. I love you.
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