Family and Home – Long walks and dark chocolate

Cherish them!

July 10, 2013 Leave a Comment

The girls when they were young

I’m sitting here wrapped up in a blanket in July, in New Orleans, because my eldest keeps her house like a meat locker. I’m not complaining though, because I couldn’t be happier at this moment, if only I could lose the sinus headache.

It’s funny to sit here and listen to my daughters arguing over how much salt to put in the mashed potatoes and whether they are better with skin off or on.

It seems like only yesterday their arguments were far more boisterous and trespasses were not as quickly forgiven. There were days I thought I would explode if I heard, “Mom!” one more time. Now, there are days when I actually miss it.

There is nothing better than having family together, listening to the chatter and the laughter, recalling old memories and creating new ones.

I wish everyone would realize how important family is and make it a priority. Life is fleeting and there is nothing like the love of family. Your children will grow up so fast and time will really begin to fly more quickly the older you get. Enjoy them, love them, cherish their smiles and laughter and forgive hastily. Don’t set yourself up for regrets.

Love and blessings!

Filed Under: Family and Home Tagged With: Family, forgiveness, love, Mashed potato, Mother, New Orleans, sisters

Up and at em’ (or not)

June 30, 2013 2 Comments

You cannot be a morning person AND a night owl. You are either one or the other and the sooner you find out which it is and embrace it, the happier you will be!

When I was a child, I tried desperately to hang out with the night owls. Although I must admit, this was frequently because I didn’t want to go into the dark scary room without my sister (who is younger than me) to protect me. More often than not, because she has a heart the size of Texas, she would give up her fun and go to bed so I could get to sleep. (We’re talking weekends and summers of course; we had a strict bedtime on school nights, which I was deeply thankful for) If nature called, she would also wake up and escort me through the door, not knowing what was on the other side, mind you! Then, it was down the dark hall to the potentially murderer infested bathroom.

My brother and sister could stay up late and watch Creature Feature and then sleep as long as mom let them on Saturday. We won’t even get into my hatred for Creature Feature. Me, I was up with the birds on Saturday morning, ready to start my day. My mom was also a morning person, so she and I were often the first ones up, which did give us some precious time together.

As childhood faded away, and the years of dating and driving arrived, I still savored my 10pm bedtime. It was no problem for me to make my curfew because I was getting tired anyway. Unfortunately, half the time I would arrive home to be told to go back out and find my sister, who wasn’t so good about hers.

This isn’t to say I didn’t have my late nights out on the rare occasion but I can tell you, I was probably fantasizing about my bed sometime around 10:30 or 11:00pm. If I was out and about after that, there was something pretty important going on, or I was just following the crowd. Can I say again how glad I am that the older you get, you don’t care about all that anymore? I saw someone complaining once (after 10pm) about not being able to go out – I was shocked; I don’t understand those people.

Nowadays, I am usually up by 5:30 on weekdays and 7:00 is about the latest I can ever sleep in, unless I am ill. My husband and my youngest are not morning people. I am pretty sure that I irritate them every morning, not only with the noise but with my sunshiny disposition most mornings. This is post coffee, of course, I will offer that. They really hate it when I want to talk (a lot) as soon as they get out of bed.

On the other hand, I get annoyed when they beg me to stay up late with them and watch a movie; they start getting drinks and snacks, when my digestive system is long done for the day. They “come alive” when I’m winding down.

So as their eyeballs seem to open wider and they hoot with the oncoming night, I find myself checking out and nodding off. But come morning, my eyes will pop open and welcome another glorious day, glad to be alive and up to see the sun rise, to start my day the right way, as it should be, wide awake, eyes wide open.

And for my fellow morning people, just in case you really want to watch and sing along I have attached one of my favorites to sing in the morning.

Aren’t you glad we aren’t carbon copies of one another? Where would the fun be in that? And now for some of my favorite quotes….

Lose an hour in the morning, and you will be all day hunting for it. ~Richard Whately

I’ll tell you how the sun rose a ribbon at a time. ~Emily Dickinson

Morning is when the wick is lit. A flame ignited, the day delighted with heat and light, we start the fight for something more than before. ~Jeb Dickerson

Filed Under: Family and Home Tagged With: mornings, night owl, Owl, scared of the dark, sleeping

Too much stuff

June 28, 2013 Leave a Comment

Cluttered Bust (Photo credit: mikecogh)

When my mom was in her forties, although she only survived until 49, I remember her saying, “I’m sick of stuff!” She said it was time to enjoy people and memories and not concentrate on accumulating more stuff; her nick-nacks started to decrease because she didn’t want to spend the time dusting. Lately, I find myself sharing her sentiments. We have so much stuff to take care of that our efforts to keep up with it all cut into the time that we actually spend with our loved ones.

With this in mind, I knew one of the junked up areas in my home/life was my closet. When you go to get ready in the morning and you continually run into the problem where you cannot find that belt or tank or whatever the need of the day may be, you know it is time to get busy! I realize I should have done this as part of my annual spring cleaning. The problem with that is mine never got fully accomplished.

The closet attack started off with a bang and then as per usual, I get hung up in the details. Which hangers should I keep? Should I arrange by season or by color? Will that EVER fit, or should I just give it away and be done with the disappointment? Should I keep the few shoe boxes I have or get rid of them since I don’t have them all? This is the type of minutia that impedes my progress no matter the task!

Finally, I got frustrated, headed for my laptop and read some blogs about closet organization. You would think by 47, I would have figured all of this out long ago, but no, so thankfully I gleaned valuable tips from some savvy women.

Three bulging garbage bags later, I finally saw the bottom of my closet and everything was on a hanger or in a box. Oh, the feeling of finally allowing yourself to let go of “stuff”! But, seriously, if you haven’t worn something in a year, you just aren’t going to. You probably bought it on a whim, on sale or someone gave it to you . Let it go and preferably to someone who can really benefit!

Not a moment too soon, my husband came in for the evening and rescued me from further detailing, so I still have the color coding to go, but this girl is feeling accomplished. Yes, my first efforts in down-sizing to a more manageable collection of clothing was a success and I’m anxious to move on to something else.

Filed Under: Family and Home Tagged With: Bin bag, Box, Closet, Clothing, Family, Home, Parenting, Shopping

Digging up Memories

June 26, 2013 Leave a Comment

Reaching upward drinking in the rain

There is nothing more therapeutic in my opinion than digging in the dark soil, until it’s trapped beneath my fingernails, or pulling out the weeds around a plant or in a bed. These sneaky imposters, sporting defiant root systems and a plethora of seeds would like to spread themselves far and wide, but not while I’m on guard.

There is also something to be said for the feeling of accomplishment when you stand, back aching and neck burning from the sun’s much too ardent kiss; and admire your work.

The desire to dig in the dirt goes back at least four generations on my mother’s side. Most of my memories of my great-grandmother Hall are in her yard as I relentlessly peppered her with questions about what each planted was named. I loved to hear the names roll off of her lips; “Why that’s night blooming jasmine, honey”, or “this is a hydrangea or sweet viburnum”. The names sounded exotic and romantic.

Granny’s yard displayed much beauty due to her diligent care. I can only suppose that it was her love for gardening that sparked an interest in my grandmother.

Many times, if you visited either of them you would find them outside. I don’t remember ever seeing either of them in anything but dresses. They may have worn something else, but not that I ever remember. Of course that was when the length of dresses kept their “neathies” (as my mom liked to call anything that should be covered by clothes) unexposed.

My mother shared their green thumb and quickly transformed any yard we had into a well landscaped display of her talent. She recruited us as often as she could to help her and most of the time I was pretty compliant.

I inherited the love as well, but unfortunately not the knack or skill; I fear my thumb is sorely lacking in green. Thankfully, I’m getting better with age, but my kill quota was pretty high there for a while. Maybe one reason I love it so much is due to the memories that I made with each of them. Take some time to dig up some good memories of your own and relish them!

Filed Under: Family and Home Tagged With: Family, gardening, Gardens, grandparent, Granny, Home, Hydrangea, Mother, Parenting, photography, plants

Fishing with Mr. Patience

June 6, 2013 6 Comments

I am just sitting here on this rainy night, contemplating our upcoming anniversary outing this weekend. We will probably drive a few hours just to “get away” and go fishing, something we both enjoy and I don’t have the pleasure of doing very often.

I felt the corners of my mouth turn upward into a smile as I recalled a day of fishing with my husband when we were first married.

We were fishing one afternoon and although I enjoy it when the fish are biting and I’m catching, I’m not such a die-hard that I won’t put my pole down for a while and lay in the sun with a book for a while, (which may exceed fishing as far as the relaxation factor goes).

We were way up some creek and the bugs were buzzing, gators were cruising and the occasional fish jumped near the boat. It was getting late, so we were hoping to catch dinner soon. Suddenly my husband had something on, and it wasn’t giving up easily. This motivated me so I jumped up and grabbed my pole and casted, sinking my bait right where I wanted it.

In the meantime, my husband had pulled his beautiful fish in and was anxiously awaiting my turn. He didn’t have to wait long until I also had a bite and then he began coaching me, like he always does. This annoys me, but he can’t help it so I just deal with it. In my humble opinion, I did everything right. But something went wrong, and I lost the fish and it was a big one. Not your ordinary big one, mind you, but a monster. My fairly new (at the time) husband lost his patience with me and proceeded to explain in a somewhat aggravated tone, that if I’d done as I was told, we would have a fat fish in the boat.

I did what I always did back then, long before I was blessed with age and wisdom and the ability to admit that I am wrong and laugh about it. I threw my pole down, stomped to the back of the boat and sat down sulkily, book in hand, anxiously awaiting the expected apology.

He got the poles situated, grumbled for a minute and then looked back and me and smiled. I was much too stubborn at this point (and age) to smile back so I feigned extreme interest in my book and ignored him. A minute later, he made his way to my side and hugged me and told me he was sorry for over-reacting and within seconds, all was forgiven. My world was righted again.

I smile now because I think of all of our absurd little arguments and how so much anxiety could have been avoided if I’d only known then what I know now. Surely others learn more quickly than I did, certainly we don’t have to be briskly approaching fifty to begin to see things from a broader perspective.

However, watching the younger ones, I see the same silly mistakes, the same ridiculous arguments and I realize we truly do live and learn and that living out these things is sometimes the only way we can learn. Besides, some of the arguments that seemed to be such a big deal at the time are the ones I look back and laugh about now and actually remember fondly, because of the apologies and the way love has grown through all of this. We have lots of stories to tell our grandchildren!

So, in a day or two, we will be alone, fishing again and I will have a book and he might lose his patience, but at the end of the day, we will still have each other. And hopefully, enough fish for dinner.

Me with a nice red

Filed Under: Family and Home Tagged With: anniversary, Boat, Fish, fishing, Fishing rod, Fishing vessel, Guides and Charters, marriage, outdoors, Recreation

The Two Anniversaries

June 5, 2013 19 Comments

This week holds two special days for me; one is the anniversary of my marriage, which symbolizes a beautiful beginning and the other is the anniversary of the death of my mother which epitomizes an agonizing final chapter in the book of my life.

Since 1996, I have endeavored to honor both dates with all of the respect and enthusiasm I could muster. The first few years after mom died, it was especially difficult to enjoy my anniversary. There was that “other” day coming on its heels, the one where the sky always looks the same as it did on that fateful day and details that would be better off forgotten gallop through my thoughts.

As I have grown older and realize the brevity of life and the importance of enjoying it, I often think of how my mom embraced life.

She was a dreamer, a romantic, intelligent and funny. She lived through some tough things; she lost her mom, her dad, her grandmother and a brother. She went through a heart-wrenching divorce.

However, if you were to inquire of anyone in my family as to who absolutely lit up a room when they entered; they would tell you quickly that it was my mother. She is often remembered for her smile, even when in the midst of adversity.

I will never forget the first time she met my husband and how much she adored him. She said, ‘he’s a keeper”. I reminisce on the first (sometimes bumpy) years of marriage when I dialed her number seeking solace and more importantly someone willing to blindly take my side. Although I’m still not sure exactly how she pulled it off, my outlook was often altered by the time I hung up the phone. She would cause me to look inward, and sometimes identify (much to my chagrin!) when I was the problem.

So, in a strange, somewhat enchanted way, the two days are combined into the fond memories of my mother, the wonderful times we had together; and the beautiful memories of my marriage and the hopes and dreams of many years to come.

There is also the knowledge that she would want me to give my anniversary the recognition it deserves and celebrate it to the fullest. She would flash that big ole’ smile and give us her blessings all over again if she could.

Once again, my memories, which threatened to take on a life of melancholy this afternoon, have only catapulted me to a happiness that comes from knowing that I have been and continue to be loved and nurtured by some of the best! I’m sitting here with your smile, mom and happy tears.

Filed Under: Family and Home, Inspirational Tagged With: anniversary, Family, God, marriage, Mother daughter relationship, Parenting, Relationships

When clothing makes the memory

May 25, 2013 4 Comments

Image found at http://www.etsy.com/listing/116451631/1960s-girls-sewing-pattern-simplicity

I would be lying if I said I don’t love fashion and enjoy checking out the latest trends. Thankfully, I do have the confidence to wear what I want and do not feel a slave to whatever the latest issue of Cosmo is sporting in its glossy pages. Some styles are hideous and it pains me to see how many people will blindly follow for the sake of expected popularity or trendiness.

Clothing says a lot about who we are, about our personality, our favorite styles and colors. It can express our desire to be comfortable at all costs, or our desire to look our best, be our tallest or for some, show the world more than what is considered decent.

For me, clothing is tied to memories. Maybe that’s why in my sub-conscience, sometimes I want that perfect outfit for that special event; because I realize there will be memories tied to it.

Some of my earliest memories include black and white patent shoes and purses with delicate flowers and beading attached. These accessories made me feel special and whimsical. They were part of my “Sunday best”, so to speak.

I remember one particular outfit; it had been handed down to me by a cousin and I was overwhelmed with gratitude because it was the most wonderful two piece, matching, polyester pant set I had ever laid eyes on, much less worn. The pants were red with bell bottoms and the top was red and covered with white hearts. When I put this on, the world was mine and everyone noticed me. I know, shocker, right? The way people looked at me probably had as much to do with the confidence I exuded by twirling and prancing and flaunting myself around as it did the actual clothing. I also remember a green dress with an apple on it, which made me feel especially smart at school.

Then there were the handmade, look alike dresses my mom would proudly adorn my sister and me in. This bothered me because how in the world could I be the center of attention dressed in look-alike clothing? (Note: Prior blogs will reveal my failures in personality and character as a child)

Fondly, in some cases, I remember the clothing of others as well. I say in some cases, because I remember cringing when we would be on vacation and my dad would don his swimming trunks and accompany us to the pool. I know this was wrong, but I promised I would always be real and transparent here, so the truth wins! My dad was and still is a very handsome man, but never ever wore shorts, so maybe it was just the oddness of it (although it could very well have had something to do with his pale little bird legs too).

I remember both of my grannies and even my great-grandmothers in their starched looking dresses, embroidered with small flowers and often with pleats. My sis and I were both just remembering yesterday a yellow shift style dress my Granny Byrd wore often. She looked pretty in it and when I think of her, I think of her in that dress.

Grandpa Byrd and Poppy Goff wore their work pants, either khaki or dark blue, both being fishing guides. They both always sported a hat to keep the sun off. Grandpa Byrd preferred a cap and Poppy always had a big straw hat, sometimes with the green sunshield across the top front. I remember the smell of the straw and the salty sea water left on the green.

My mom had unruly hair, much like mine and I remember her scarves and kerchiefs she would wear, especially if we were on the boat, which was often. In one of my favorite pictures of mother, she had on a floor length dress and her hair in the bouffant style, ready to go to a Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty concert in Miami. I thought she far outshone any princess, movie star or fashion model I knew of.

I could go on and on about people and what they wear. The things I remember about them somehow relates to the way they were attired. So you see, clothes don’t make the person, but they do speak much about them presently as well as in our memories.

Filed Under: Family and Home Tagged With: attire, Clothing, dresses, fashion, Shopping, trends, what to wear

Eyebrows and Toenails

May 17, 2013 2 Comments

Pedi in Hawaii

Today was a day I decided to just meander into town and do whatever I felt like doing, a “me” day, I guess.

After a couple of errands were out of the way, I found myself at the mall which was just beginning to open. There weren’t many people there and I thought that from now on, early morning is the right time to come to the mall. The only thing you have to watch out for is all of the elderly walkers who come here to have a safe, indoor environment to move those bodies. Some of them are fast and you have to get out of their way.

My stop at Sephora was very productive, although a tad costly, but what’s a girl to do without her cosmetics? I even allowed myself the luxury of letting the girl try some new products on me and got a new “eye look”. She insisted primer is the key to keep that eye shadow in place.

Next, I stumbled on a huge dress sale, so of course, I had to stop. After trying on about 10 dresses from the sale racks and one of the latest arrivals, guess which one fit? Right, the latest arrival, which meant it wasn’t on sale. But, it was too cute to pass up.

My next to last stop of the day was to redeem the mani-pedi gift certificate one of my daughters gave me for Mother’s Day. I don’t know if it’s just me or what, but it’s a challenge for me to sit still and relax during this process. I look at it more as a “necessity”; something you just do, get it over with and feel prettier because of it. This time, I told myself, I would really try to relax (except for the waxing part as that is impossible!). I settled in and closed my eyes, the massage chair already doing its thing.

Wouldn’t you know I would be perched near the lady who proceeded to regale everyone within earshot with stories about her and her husband’s feet. She went on for approximately 20 minutes expressing her angst over her ingrown toenails and telling her friend how she comes to get them “dug out” once a month. She enlightened us on more than we ever wanted to know about ingrown toenails, her husband’s bunions and a horrific trip she had to the podiatrist who drew blood.

Needless to say, I was glad when it was my turn to go in the back for eyebrow and upper lip waxing. The pain of that would surely be better than the next topic she would thrill us with.

Finally, I was ready to go. I got to my car to try to remove some of the gooey, shiny stuff they plaster all over your brows and lip after this process. When I opened the mirror, I was horrified. My new “eye look”, was stripped mid-way down from the brow and thanks to the new primer she used, I couldn’t rub what was left around to fill in the huge bare gaps.

At this point, I knew that the only place I could possibly go was Walmart to pick up my last few things, so I hurried through with a prayer that I wouldn’t see anyone I knew. I saw one, but managed to avoid them. It was for their benefit as well as mine (so don’t judge people for avoiding you sometimes as you never know the reason, hehe). I was a puffy, red mess with goofed up eye makeup.

I got through there in record time and made it home undetected and unnoticed for the most part. I’m feeling much better after a cold wash cloth, a glass of sweet tea and a piece of dark chocolate. I’m thankful that my toes are still kinda cute, for a while longer anyway.

Filed Under: Family and Home Tagged With: feet, girls, Health, Ingrown nail, makeup, manicure, pedicure, Sephora, Walmart

Pondering prom

May 15, 2013 4 Comments

I was just there to do a favor; take pictures that the kids would like, with a decent camera. My role was photographer (not even close to professional and not pretending to be) and spectator.

One of the first cars to pull up after my friend and I arrived was my daughter and wow, she looked amazing. She had that perfect dress on and when she smiled at me, I considered how blessed I was to be here, a part of her senior prom. I could watch her from the sidelines, beside myself with emotion that was pushed way down deep, yet ever threatening to bubble to the top and overflow. But, I promised myself there would be no waterworks tonight.

As I watched the young adults begin to arrive, I was amazed at how beautiful and handsome they all looked. Since I’ve known most of them since they were in diapers, my heart lurched for them too. For some, this would be the final big event of their high school career.

They let me take their pictures, ate a wonderful meal and then the dancing began. This was a great group, not the kind you constantly have to worry about and follow around to intercept any mischief. They were content to be together.

Looking around the room casually, careful not to let my eyes linger anywhere long enough to be that nosy parent, the memories overwhelmed me. The sleepovers, the birthday parties, little league games and youth group. Many have been found eating at my table, riding in my car, sharing secrets and dreams.

We complain sometimes because we live in a small town and our kids go to a K-12 school. It’s small so it doesn’t offer as much variety or choice in sports or academics as some schools. Everyone knows each other’s business, so gossip can run rampant.

But, sitting there thinking about these kids and some of the lifelong friendships, I realized that where we fall short in some areas, we far exceed in others. We’re like family; we all come together when it’s needed. They may argue, but when push comes to shove and there is a need, it’s met.

Their futures loom just ahead of them and no one knows what tomorrow holds, but whenever they return home, they will have those of us who welcome them. We will share in their joy of accomplishments and feel sorrow in their losses.

I had been home about an hour when my daughter arrived and we went through the pictures together and discussed the night. She was happy with how things went, so of course, so was I. (and I was glad she was home and off the road early so this mom could get some much needed rest!)

Filed Under: Family and Home, Inspirational Tagged With: daughter, empty nest, Family, friend, High school, People, prom, teen

Love you mother!

May 10, 2013 2 Comments

I was blessed with one of those Moms like the one from Leave It to Beaver, only better. Hers was the shoulder I cried on, and it was her hand that I held. She was strength when I needed it and a resounding voice of wisdom during my trials and troubles.

In my early years, she was my fiercest protector, my biggest encourager, my most invested teacher and an abundant source of love and gentleness.

As I grew, she cheered me on, she poured positivity into me, and she taught me forgiveness and reminded me to turn to God for all things.

In my teenage years, she cried with me as she stroked my back, bringing hope to a broken heart. She defended me like a lioness, when she thought I’d been wronged. She never lost faith in me or what I could become. She was my mentor, my solace, my sole confidante.

When I became a mother myself, I learned to appreciate her more than ever for it was then that I recognized her sacrifices and identified with them myself.

Now, after almost 17 years, I can still remember the sound of her voice, the strength of her touch and thankfully, all the things that she taught me about love and life.

I will miss her until the day the good Lord calls me home and I am reunited with her.

For those of you who didn’t have the greatest mom, I am truly sorry and I know there are many situations out there that are heartbreaking. The good thing is, you can be that yourself, whether you are a mom or a mentor, you can give someone hope. You never know how you can be used to pour into a life until you do it.