Mother's Day

How I miss my mother. It's been 7 years and 2 months since her death and my heart still longs for her. I still want to pick up the phone to tell her about something cute the kids have said or done, or lean on her when something is weighing heavily on my mind. I still cry in the middle of the aisle at Wal-Mart when looking at Mother's Day cards. I still feel like my kids are gypped not having their Nana around. That will never change.

Things I will always remember about her:

• Her patience
• Her ability to make me feel understood & respected
• Her soft, nurturing hands
• Her warm smile
• Her sincerity
• Her beloved irises
• Her perfect brown gravy, and pot roast, and the way the house smelled when she cooked
• Her amazing sense of humor
• "Puff Daddy and his entourage!" (inside joke between the two of us)
• The way we'd sit side by side at the piano and play... and sing
• Her royal blue eyes
• Her talent at writing for children
  
• Laughing with her over "Friends" and "Seinfeld"
  
• Her gorgeous, intricate quilts
• The kick she got out of Bart Simpson
  
• The way my husband and kids, in her eyes, walked on water
  
• Her unwavering love for me
  

I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places
that this heart of mine embraces all day through
In the small cafe, the park across the way, the children's carousel,
the chestnut tree, the wishing well
And I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day,
in everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way
I'll find you in the morning sun
and when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you.

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Margaret E. Teibl ~ February 24, 1923 - March 12, 2001
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Tired.

There's a kid under there somewhere.

The Early Years

Thought I'd write down some memories of my kids' toddler and preschool years as I remember them. I'm sure I've forgotten many of them already, as it is.

Chad was my silly kid--always entertaining us. Here are a few things that come to mind, off the top of my head:

• At 2, Chad could speak in complete sentences. For his 2nd birthday, my mother got him an assortment of Barney videos plus some more practical items like clothing. She was worried the clothes might not be a very big hit. As he opened one of her presents, he gasped and exclaimed in the most enthusiastic voice, "WOW, jeans! Thanks, guys!" And then... a few weeks later, he, my mother & I were going somewhere in our new Taurus. She corrected something he did, and frustrated, he said: "Get out of my new car, Nana!" Turns out there are pros and cons to having your kid speak clearly at such a young age.
  

• At nearly 3, he was still not potty-trained. He was, however, preoccupied with firefighters and decided he simply could not become potty-trained until he had "firefighter underwear." Of course there were none to be found! My mother, bless her heart, was able to find some firetruck fabric, and appliqued firetrucks onto new, white toddler briefs. The first day he wore them to daycare, Chad greeted each incoming parent by promptly bending over, dropping his pants to his ankles, and proudly showing them his "new firefighter underwear!" And, oh, by the way--24 hours later and he was completely trained. Apparently he really was holding out for the specially-made undies.

• At about 3.5 years old he became preoccupied with death--mine in particular. We'd been visiting my brother at a hospital, and staying in a hotel with my mother (76 years old at the time). Chad & I were in one bed, and my mom, the other. He kept quizzing me with different scenarios--seemingly to postpone going to sleep: "So if an alligator ate you, would you die, Mama?" "What if we crashed in an airplane? Would you die then?" "When exactly do you think you're going to die???" Exasperated and absolutely desperate for sleep, I finally said, "Chad, look at how old I am, and my mom is still alive!" Without saying a word, he turned his head towards my mother, studied her quite intently, looked up towards the ceiling, let out a big sigh, and said, "Yeah, but Nana looks like she's gonna die any minute now!"

• One day at about 4 years old, Chad was hunting all over the house for his toy binoculars, but to no avail. He finally came to me and asked, "Mama, does God really answer our prayers?" Touched that he seemed to be grasping the concept of prayer, while beaming with pride, I said, "Why, of course he does, sweetheart! Are you going to ask for God's help in finding your binoculars?" He looked at me like he'd never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. "No!" he answered. "I'm going to ask for Him to just THROW SOME DOWN!"

• On the more poignant side: In 1998, Chad's daycare teacher, Lisa, lost her father. A few months later, Mother's Day was fast approaching, which they were all discussing in class. Out of the blue, Chad (3.5) asked Lisa if he could get her a special gift. "Sure!" she replied. He then surprised her by saying, "I wondered if I could get your dad back for you." Taken aback, yet touched, she asked, "Do you have connections or something?" "No," he replied. "I was thinking maybe I could just drill a hole in the clouds..."

• He was quite taken with his step-dad, Joe, from the moment he met him, and was always trying to imitate everything he did. One day, Joe was outside trimming a tree, so Chad (3) put on his own plastic hard hat, a plaid flannel shirt, and a plastic tool belt adorned with plastic tools to head outside. He pretended to "work" by his side for five or ten minutes, and then suddenly declared, "Sheesh! I need a BEER!" (Even though, might I make this clear, Joe was not drinking a thing.) He threw down his fake tools, ran inside, flung open the fridge, and guzzled down a small kids' container of Sunny D.

I can't help but smile and think of him every time I hear these lyrics: "We like fixin' things and holdin' mama's hand... yeah, we're just alike, hey ain't we, Dad? I want to do everything you do, 'cause I've been watching you."

Girls' Day Out

Here's a picture of Erin and me, on our way out of town for our "Girls' Day Out" (completely her idea).

As Erin said, at the Olive Garden--as we clinked her plastic kids' cup and my glass together--"Here's to a perfect day at the mall!"

May we have many, many more perfect days together. Mall or no mall.... doesn't much matter.